A Friend in Need
by LeeLee Rob
Summary: In this novella length story set in the future, Mickey is injured in a hit and run incident. McCall suspects it's no accident and investigates. As he delves into the mystery, he not only solves the crime, but helps shape Mickey's future as only he can.
1. Chapter 1

Setting: New York City

Date: circa 1992

**1. Accidents Happen**

"This is Officer Cordero of the NYPD. We found several cards with this number in the wallet of a man who was injured tonight. His name is Michael Kostmayer. He had no other telephone numbers on him. Please call the 5th Precinct if you know him."

McCall checked his watch as he punched in the number. The call had come in more than an hour ago. "Yes, this is Robert McCall. Officer Cordero left a message that my friend Mickey Kostmayer had been injured."

"One moment please."

One moment became two minutes. McCall, anxious about Mickey, grew irritated.

"Officer James speaking."

"Yes, I am calling in response to a message from Officer Cordero about Mickey Kostmayer."

"Yes, sir. He's at Downtown Hospital."

"I see. What more can you tell me?"

"He was struck by a car."

"How badly hurt is he?"

"I couldn't say."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm not at liberty to provide details. There is an investigation underway."

"May I inquire whom is in charge of this investigation?"

"Detective Robbins, sir."

"Then may I speak to him, please?"

"Do you have information bearing on what happened?"

"Since you have provided me no details, I am hardly able to answer that. However, I do have information concerning Mr. Kostmayer that Detective Robbins shall need to know."

Officer James audibly sighed in disbelief. "Hold on, I'll transfer you."

Before McCall could say an insincere "thank you," he was cut off.

"This is Detective Robbins. I'm away from my desk. Please leave a brief message and I'll get back to you soon. If this is an emergency, please dial zero and ask for the detective on duty."

McCall left his cell phone number. He donned his trench coat and went to see Mickey. He called Control from his car. "McCall here. I have been informed that Mickey was struck by a car this afternoon. He was taken to Downtown Hospital. It is 8:35 p.m currently; I am on my way there. Detective Robbins of the 5th Precinct is in charge of the investigation."

Although Saturday evening traffic downtown was light, the hospital buzzed with activity. McCall presented himself to the E.R. receptionist. "My name is Robert McCall. I'm here to see Michael Kostmayer. He was struck by a car this afternoon."

"Are you family?"

"Yes," he lied without hesitation.

The receptionist typed on her computer. "He's in x-ray right now. When more information is available, a member of his treatment team will speak to you. Please take a seat in the waiting room."

"I am afraid that will not do, Madam. I need to know Mr. Kostmayer's status immediately and see that security precautions are put in place."

"Security?

"Is there someone in authority I may speak to?"

"Um, I don't know."

"I must insist."

"If you take a seat, I'll find someone to speak with you shortly, sir."

"Again, my name is Robert McCall. I appreciate your assistance."

Five minutes later, a harried looking young Indian doctor arrived. "Mr. McCall?"

"I am Robert McCall."

"You asked to see me?"

"Yes, I would like to know Mickey Kostmayer's condition and where he is presently."

"He's just back from x-ray. He has a concussion and a collapsed lung. He will be admitted for at least twenty-four hours."

"I would like to see him immediately."

"He's on oxygen right now. He won't be able to communicate."

"I know Mr. Kostmayer very well, doctor. He will find a way."

"Even so, in my medical opinion, he is not ready for visitors yet."

"Very well. However, you must arrange for him to be guarded or permit me to do so until the appropriate authorities arrive."

"Huh? The police officer who accompanied him to the hospital went to the cafeteria. He didn't say anything about security."

"Mr. Kostmayer was struck by a car, was he not?"

"Yes, the officer said that, but what does that have to do with anything?"

McCall began to wonder whether it could have been an accident.

"Doctor Bhattacharjee, Mr. Kostmayer is a member of a law enforcement agency. The officer who brought him in likely was unaware of that. Unless we are certain that his injuries are a result of an accident, I must insist that security be provided by the hospital or by myself until someone is assigned to that function. Do you understand that?"

"Um, yes, sir. No one told us that information previously, sir. I'll call security immediately."

"Then I will seek to interview the police officer you mentioned. I do appreciate your assistance, Doctor. Would you be so kind as to point me toward the cafeteria?"

The doctor pointed the way. McCall ran into Officer Cordero en route. "Officer Cordero, I am Robert McCall. You called me earlier tonight about Mickey Kostmayer."

"McCall, huh? All the cards said were "the Equalizer." Very strange business card if you ask me."

"Would you please tell me, in detail, what happened to Mr. Kostmayer?"

"He got hit by a taxicab that jumped the curb. The taxi driver panicked and took off."

"That seems rather odd."

"We have the unit number, so it shouldn't be long before we find him."

McCall had his doubts. "Where was Mr. Kostmayer at the time?"

"Chinatown."

McCall pondered what might have taken Mickey there. Mickey had never been particularly fond of Chinatown. "Did you speak to Mr. Kostmayer at the scene?"

"He was unconscious when I arrived at the scene. When he came to, he didn't remember getting hit by a car at all."

"Do we know the driver's name?"

"The detectives do, I'm sure. Look, Mr. McCall, you'll really have to speak to them if you want to know more. This is an ongoing investigation and they like to control the information flow."

McCall reached for his wallet again. "I'm sorry, Officer. I should have made myself clear from the beginning. Mr. Kostmayer is a colleague of mine. The other card, it's a sideline." He showed a Company card.

"Oh, I didn't know."

"Nor should you have. Mr. Kostmayer is a field operative."

"Right, so no i.d. Are you suggesting this was intentional?"

"I am merely inquiring."

"The sole eyewitness said the cab jumped the curb all the sudden. There was nothing about the car going all out for him."

"That is helpful. Can you tell me the cab company and number? Detective Robbins was out of the office when I called him. I chose to check on Mr. Kostmayer rather than wait for his return call."

"The cab was a Chinatown Checker, number 14. An APB went out on someone named Chin Wong Ho a few minutes ago. I assume he's the driver. I figured he fled because he was afraid to get deported."

"That is certainly a possibility to be considered."

"I was on my way to follow up with the victim, Mr. Kostmayer that is, unless you guys want to handle that and fill us in."

"I will speak to Mr. Kostmayer and inform your department about any helpful information he may possess. I thank you, Officer Cordero, for helping my friend."

"I hope he'll be okay."

"I am sure he will be."


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Inquiries**

As McCall entered Mickey's room, a nurse moved out of his way. Mickey breathed in labored rales; his oxygen mask amplified the effect. A plastic drainage tube ran from Mickey's chest to a container behind the bed. McCall stood before Mickey and took his left hand in his. "Ah, Mickey, here we are again. I am relieved to say that I have seen you look worse, much worse."

Mickey gave a wink and the slightest curl of a smile under his oxygen mask. McCall surveyed his friend. He observed a large bruise above Mickey's right eyebrow and a bigger bruise on the right side of his rib cage. Any other bumps and bruises were hidden under blankets.

"Control is now aware that you are here. I am certain that you shall be receiving an old friend or two shortly. Before then, we should talk."

Mickey gave a slight nod and his hand went to pull off the oxygen mask.

McCall's hand stopped Mickey's. "No, don't talk. Just squeeze my hand. Once for yes, twice for no."

Mickey squeezed once.

"The officer on the scene said you didn't appear to remember what happened. Is that correct? . . . (one squeeze) . . . It is . . . (one squeeze) . . . Do you have any idea if you were struck intentionally? . . . (two squeezes) . . . You have no idea? . . . . (one squeeze) . . . Were you on assignment? . . . (two squeezes) . . . No. . . . (one squeeze). . . . Is there anything else you think I should know before I talk to Control? I can sense his people storming the gates. . . . (two squeezes) . . . Then I shall return shortly."

Mickey nodded and gave an "okay" wave with his hand.

McCall saw Control himself in the hallway. Control installed a Company man in place of the hospital security guard before he acknowledged McCall's presence.

"What do we have?" Control asked.

"No pleasantries first? No inquiries as to Mickey's health?"

"I'm aware of his condition. I even left a high level meeting when I got your call. Does that suffice?"

"In all the years I have known you, Control, no meeting has been anything but high level. On a Saturday evening, in those clothes, don't you mean a high level dinner party?"

Control glared. "So what happened to Mickey?"

"Mickey was hit when a taxicab jumped the curb."

"You mean this was just an accident? You called me for that?"

"I do not know for certain whether it was or was not an accident, nor does Mickey. However, I did believe precautions were advisable."

"Because?"

"The taxi driver, one Chin Wong Fo, fled the scene. Does that name ring any bells?"

"No, I can't say it does."

"Is Mickey working on anything which might invite this kind of attention?"

"No. Frankly, since the wall came down and the Ruskies fell apart, we're spinning our heels. Mickey's been doing mostly research -- the book kind -- of late."

"Oh, he must love that."

"Hey, at least he's getting paid. Cuts are coming, Robert. For those who don't learn to speak Arabic or Chinese, work will be thin. I couldn't be retiring at a better time."

"Yes, congratulations by the way."

"Oh, Robert, I know I'll see you at the surprise party next week."

"Right, well, about Mickey then."

"He'd do well to follow my lead. He's eligible for an early out, reduction in force."

"So you just want to ignore the fact that he's injured and we don't know if it is work related? He and you could retire and you can forget about this?"

"No, we'll follow up on the taxi driver, Robert. I'll let you know if I learn anything I can tell you."

"How reassuring."

"Take care, Robert. Say hello to Mickey for me."

"Yes," McCall muttered as Control beat a hasty retreat, "no time to say hello yourself. High level business, of course." He returned to Mickey's room.

"Hello again. Control sent his regards and left a friend behind. Are you comfortable?"

Mickey glared at McCall.

"Ah, yes, stupid question. Relatively speaking, I meant. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Mickey pointed to the phone.

"You want me to call your brother?"

Mickey shook his head. He waved his hand for McCall to give him the phone. Mickey punched seven digits and then began to remove his mask. His breathing labored immediately. McCall snapped Mickey's hand away and restored the mask.

"Don't be ridiculous. I can talk to whomever for you."

Mickey nodded as McCall listened to the line. An answering machine with a woman's voice picked up. McCall hung up. "I should be happy to leave a message, but first I would like to know what that message should be."

Mickey nodded.

"Is this a professional colleague? . . . (two squeezes) . . . A friend, then? . . . (one squeeze) . . . Would you like me to inform her of what happened and your whereabouts? . . . (one squeeze) . . . Were you meeting this woman tonight? . . . (one squeeze) . . . Is this . . . serious? . . . (no squeezes). . . ." McCall eyed Mickey suspiciously. "I shall take care of it for you immediately after I leave. You rest now. I shall see you in the morning."

McCall walked to an empty room down the hall where he used his cell phone to dial the number Mickey called. The machine answered again.

"Hello. My name is Robert McCall. I am a friend of Mickey Kostmayer. He was struck by a car this afternoon and has been hospitalized. He asked me to call you. Please give me a call at this number."

McCall then left the hospital. On his way home, he picked up take-out for dinner. As he ate it in his kitchen, he wondered about Mickey. McCall had seen little of Mickey in the last two months. He had assumed that Company business consumed his time. Halfway into his meal, the phone rang.

"Is this Mr. McCall?"

"Yes, this is Robert McCall."

"This is Elise Cantrell. You left me a message about Mickey. How is he?"

"He will be fine."

"What hospital is he at?"

"Downtown Hospital."

"How was he hurt?"

"He has a concussion, badly bruised ribs and a collapsed lung."

"Oh, Jesus. I'll go right there."

"No visitors will be admitted until morning."

"I can get in."

"Perhaps, but I think a night's rest would serve him better."

"You're sure he'll be okay?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

"I would prefer to tell you that in person, if you don't mind."

"Mr. McCall, I know what Mickey does for a living. Was this not an accident?"

"I would be much more comfortable discussing this in person. How about if we meet first thing in the morning and then I shall take you to see Mickey afterward?"

"Is there some reason I can't go myself?"

"Mickey is under guard. Without approval of the Company, you shall be denied admission."

"I see. Would it be possible for me to meet you tonight?"

"It's late, but if you would like, yes. Where?"

"Anywhere you want."

"Are you familiar with Phalen's Pub?"

"I know it. I can be there in half an hour. How will I recognize you?"

"Just tell Pete that you're waiting to see me."

"Okay."

McCall trashed the remainder of his food and headed to the pub. He hailed a taxi to avoid the challenge of parking legally on a Saturday night. As he rode, he considered that Mickey's friend knew Phalen's. He assumed Mickey had taken her there. If time permitted, he hoped Pete could tell him something about her.

When McCall arrived, Pete pointed him out to an attractive, fit brunette of medium height. The woman nodded and approached. "Elise Cantrell," she said and thrust out her hand.

Robert observed, first, that her handshake was exceedingly firm. Second, he noticed a familiar bulge under her jacket.

"Robert McCall. I am delighted to meet you, Ms. Cantrell."

"It's Elise. The same."

Robert pointed her toward an empty table.

"What happened to Mickey?"

"He was struck by a taxicab in Chinatown."

"You don't think it was an accident?"

"The police do not yet know. The driver fled the scene and remains at large."

"What do they know about the driver?"

"They believe he might be an illegal immigrant, an Asian."

"Any witnesses?"

"Before we discuss details, I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Shoot."

"Ah yes, on that topic, may I ask if you carry a license for that weapon?"

"I do."

"I see. How did you meet Mickey?"

"We crossed paths on an interagency job."

"You work for whom?"

"The Bureau."

"Indeed?"

"You want to see my i.d.?"

"No, I don't put much stock in paper."

"Me neither."

"Tell me more about you and Mickey."

"Mr. McCall, . . ."

"Robert, please."

"Do you really need to vet me before I can go see Mickey?"

"Elise, as you must know, in this business we are all targets at times. When we are targets, those around us often become targets."

"I can take care of myself, Mr. McCall."

"I'm sure. You should understand that not having met you previously, I had no way to know that. I knew nothing of you."

"Mickey and I have been seeing each other intermittently for about three months now. That's shy of needing to report to friends and family."

"Or too busy to come up for air?" McCall smiled.

"Look, will you get me in to see him in the morning?"

"Yes, on the condition that you join me for a drink, dinner too, if you haven't eaten already."

"No, I haven't. Mickey and I were going to see a movie in Chinatown and then planned to grab a bite after." Their conversation stalled as a waitress came and took their drink orders, for McCall a scotch, for her a Negroni.

"You were going to see a movie in Chinatown?"

"It's a Jackie Chan film festival, his old movies, in Chinese with English subtitles. Well, English might be an exaggeration."

"Mickey's affinity for that kind of cinema shall always perplex me."

"That's a common bias, but if you were to watch, you'd see that Jackie Chan's movies are choreographed better than most Hollywood musicals ever were. You just have to look past the plots. It's more Keaton and Chaplin than anything else out there today."

"Ah, yes, if you say so." The waitress interrupted a dead-end conversation by bringing drinks and taking Elise's food order.

"Moving back to Mickey, were there any witnesses?" Elise asked.

"Just one. The witness saw the cab jump the curb, but didn't think it was anything more than reckless driving."

"You think the likelihood of that is what?"

"Mickey is not accident prone. His reflexes are among the best I've had the privilege to work with."

"Maybe that's why nothing broke; he saw it coming?"

"Possibly, but Mickey has no memory whatsoever of the accident."

"Oh. That's too bad."

"Elise, I have known Mickey a very long time. He is like a son to me."

"Look, I'm sorry if you feel left out of the loop because Mickey didn't bring me to meet his surrogate daddy yet. We aren't at that stage!" McCall thought her protest a little forced.

"I did not suggest that my approval is necessary to your relationship. I only meant to convey to you that I have Mickey's back."

"Mr. McCall, given what I know about you, I couldn't be happier about that. One question, though. Does that leave me with his front? Cause I kinda like his tush."

"Well, um," McCall muttered uncomfortably, then raised his drink. "To Mickey's fast recovery."

"Hear, hear. And to getting to the bottom -- in the non-tush sense -- of what happened."

"Yes."

"I assume the Company is following up?"

"Yes, although the police shall retain official jurisdiction for the time being."

"I could run a check on the driver's status with a phone call."

"That ground is covered."

"I suppose I knew that." As she spoke, Elise Cantrell's overdressed, wilted salad arrived. "Jesus, what was I thinking, ordering a salad here?"

McCall grinned. "It was that, my dear, that worried me most about you."

Elise Cantrell smiled back. "Never had more than a nightcap here. Guess I should have known." She leaned in close to McCall, "If I didn't know how many people in here packed, I might shoot it."

"I would support you if you did so." Robert waved to the waitress. "Sandra, bring my friend here a hamburger. How do you prefer it cooked?"

"Rare."

"For safety's sake, I would make it medium rare."

"Like the man says." The waitress nodded and left.

"How long have you been with the Bureau?"

"Right out of college."

"You like it?"

"Some days yes, some days no. Some administrations more than others. You know how that goes."

"I do indeed."

"I know Mickey's walked away a number of times. His boss drives him crazy."

"Control can be a bit difficult."

"Still, Mickey's gone back every time."

"A quiet life ill suits Mickey."

"I have no illusion that it would."

"When you said that you and he 'crossed paths,' what did that mean?"

"That's classified, I'm afraid."

"You work in the field, then?"

"Yes."

"I see. Your specialty?"

"Organized crime."

"That covers much of the Bureau's efforts these days. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"There isn't much of it."

"Do you have family in New York?"

"No."

"Elsewhere?"

"Not really."

"Ah, the job is your life," Robert said. As he said it, he thought he'd glimpsed a dark shadow cross her face. "This line of work can be all consuming." Elise didn't bite at the bait. "I know first hand. It consumed my marriage. It also preempted my efforts at fathering."

"It's a job tailor-made for selfish singles."

"Is that how you see yourself?" She didn't answer McCall. "Because frankly, I don't think you mean that sincerely at all."

"No, I guess not. I only mean that once you understand it's not a great family job, it's best to avoid those kinds of entanglements."

"So you are resolved to a solitary life style?"

"It isn't always that way."

"Ah yes, but with Mickey you are safe, both of you, because you know that ultimately your work will pull you apart before there is any threat of serious entanglement."

Elise Cantrell shrugged.

"I have had the experience. Still, I do wish more for Mickey."

"You see him pushing a lawnmower on the Island?"

"Mickey is quite versatile, though he is and probably always shall be a city boy. However, he could do many other things for a living and do quite well if he put his mind to it."

"Maybe he likes the steady paycheck."

McCall dismissed the idea with a look. "What is it that keeps you in this business?"

"I still believe in justice."

"As do I. There are, however, many other ways to pursue it."

"This is the one I know and respect, for all its failings."

"You are on a mission, then?"

"The system is all that divides the criminals from the good guys. Take away the system and the line between vigilante and justice becomes too blurred, at least for me."

"I have seen our government agencies blur that line unforgivably time and time again."

"I won't claim it doesn't happen, but in our neck of the woods, I like to think it's the exception. I understand that the Company operates differently."

"Yes. On numerous occasions, I have been used, and Mickey has been used, in ways that are atrocious to us now."

"You chose to leave. He hasn't. I'm in no position to debate it."

"I suppose you're right. That would be my agenda."

"You'll have to take it up with him, then, not that I disagree," Elise Cantrell winked. Her burger arrived. She dove in hungrily and conversation ceased. When she finished, she looked at her watch and rose. "Oh, Christ, I've got an early morning and I'd like to see Mickey first thing, so please excuse me if I run. It was a pleasure meeting you. I trust you'll keep a keen eye on Mickey's back."

McCall had barely stood up to say goodbye when she took off. He liked her, yet something about Elise Cantrell worried him.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Upon Further Investigation**

McCall arrived at the hospital at 9:30 a.m. Mickey's oxygen tube and the chest tube had been removed. Mickey sat propped up halfway. He looked tired, bruised, uncomfortable and grumpy.

"McCall, what the hell did you say to Elise?"

"Pardon me?"

"She came to see me this morning, then blew me off."

"You presume me at fault for that?"

"We had a nice thing going."

"What makes you conclude that I did anything to interfere with that?"

"Because after an hour with you last night, she decided it was best for quote everyone involved end-quote if we went our separate ways."

"I assure you that I did nothing consciously to precipitate that result."

"You might not have done it intentionally, but is it possible that you were just a little pissed off that I hadn't been in touch recently or told you about her?"

"Mickey, we are not children!"

"Right now, I'd almost rather be. I've just lost the best thing to come along in my life in ages. My job's in the toilet. And I don't feel so well either."

"Always looking on the sunny side of life," McCall smiled.

"I'd love to blow the head off the guy that did this to me."

"Do you remember anything this morning?"

"Nothing. Last I remember, I got off the subway and was walking to the theatre. Then there's a cop standing over me."

"I've not yet heard back about the driver."

"I missed the goddamned movie to boot."

"I'm sure we can obtain a video copy."

"It's not the same on a small screen."

"I am considering asking the nurse to put the oxygen mask back on you. Your not being able to speak may have been an under-appreciated asset."

"Can't you find something better to do than hang around and harass me?"

"Business is slow. However, if I am annoying you, I can check in with our friends about the cab driver."

"Do that. Cause soon as I can move, I plan to go after him."

"Perhaps you revealed your predilection for violent confrontation to Ms. Cantrell and she did not respond well to it."

"McCall, so help me, I . . .."

McCall pulled out his phone and Mickey didn't finish his hollow threat. McCall's conversation ran several minutes. Mickey heard only snippets of "really," "is that so," and "how interesting" until McCall hung up. Mickey's curiosity led him to move up to a full sit. He groaned in pain as he did it.

"What did you learn?"

"The taxi was found floating in the East River this morning. The driver is missing, or, I should say, the actual driver is missing. The putative driver was found dead drunk or possibly drugged in an alley behind a Chinatown bar. No one yet knows anything about the actual driver. The police are hoping to learn more when the regular driver is more cogent."

"Oh, that's real elucidating."

"It tends to support the inference that this was no accident."

Mickey shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining, but as hits go, it was a lame effort."

"I think we can conclude that whomever did it most likely did not seek to kill you."

"We know this because?"

"The driver from whom the cab was stolen remains alive, as do you. The manner in which the car came at you was not an effort at a death blow."

"So you think this was a warning shot across the bow?"

McCall nodded.

"It'd be more effective if I had some idea from whom and about what."

"I imagine that message will be delivered eventually," McCall said.

"Yeah, well, what if the next message is worse?"

"I know someone who might be of assistance." McCall pulled out one of his business cards.

"You're hired," Mickey said as he declined the card.

"It really wasn't a choice, you know."

"So how do you want to play this? Besides waiting for the next four thousand pound object to come at me? I'm not entirely comfortable with that."

"Nor am I. First, we will need to consider those who may harbor ill will toward you. Then we shall inquire as to their status."

"That'll be a long list. Hey, McCall, is that why you scared Elise off? To protect her because we know zippo about who's coming at me?"

"I cannot speak for Ms. Cantrell's motivation in acting as she has."

"I mean, I can't blame her for stepping back under the circumstances. I just thought that with her in the business and having seen her under fire, well, I didn't think she'd frighten that easily."

"How well do you really know Ms. Cantrell, Mickey?"

"Better in some ways than in others, I guess," Mickey admitted. He looked unhappy at the realization.

"You think about possible suspects now. I'll check in with you later." McCall headed toward the door.

"McCall, thanks, I think."

McCall had been gone five minutes before Mickey stopped his mental listing of possible enemies. He picked up the phone to call Elise. She didn't answer, so he left a message. "It's Mickey. I just wanted to let you know that I understand why you might want to keep your distance. McCall let me know this wasn't an accident. I don't want to drag you into whatever it is. Guess you figured I'd get there once I knew and didn't want to make me feel bad by letting me push you away. I do, either way, feel bad, that is. I'm sorry."

Mickey hit the bed with his fist after he hung up. He berated himself silently. Every time he got emotionally involved, someone ended up hurt or dead. He hadn't chosen a normal life and this was the consequence. Even quitting wouldn't solve it. If he got out tomorrow, his enemies wouldn't simply disappear. His thinking that being with someone in the business would be better was just lunacy. Casual friends and casual sex were the best he dared have. Anything more just left you exposed. Even his friendship with McCall had that consequence. The KGB exploited that relationship by torturing Mickey and then programming him to kill McCall, which he'd come close to doing. Yet we've still stuck together, Mickey argued with himself. We've gotten through the worst possible times together. Then again, how could I expect there to be more than one person in my life like that? No, I'm lucky to have one.

Mickey turned his mind away from a fruitless debate with itself and focussed back on listing possible suspects. He let anger at this unknown suspect push aside advancing depression. People who did what he did had no room for deep emotions, at least they deluded themselves into believing that.

While Mickey pondered his situation from his hospital bed, McCall followed up with the Company and the police. As he was unsatisfied with the pace of their inquiries. McCall set out to make his own. His first stop: Chinatown, particularly the bar behind which the regular cabbie was found.

"Mr. Fat a regular. Comes in several times a week. Drinks by self. Not like to talk. Has drink or two, smokes, and watch television."

"What happened the other day?" McCall asked.

"Nothing different. He come in, order drink, smoke and watch t.v.. Except after second drink, I notice him falling off stool, sleepy or drunk like. Never see that before from him. I close tab and tell him to go sleep it off."

"Did he comply?"

"Yes. He went to men's room first and I not see him after that."

"He came in alone the other day?"

"Same as always. Same stool. Same drink -- whiskey. I tell all this to police already."

"All he does is sit here, drink and talk to no one?"

"Yes, not everyone comes to a bar to talk. Man who spends time driving a cab must get sick of talking to people."

"Exactly how did he behave the other day?"

"As I said, he falling off chair, woozy like. I think he was talking to himself too."

"Did he seem off or inebriated when he came in?"

"No. He sat down at the end of the bar, said hello, ordered his drink and drank. Fifteen minutes later, he order second one. Seemed fine."

"Then all the sudden, he began to act strange?"

"Yes."

"He normally drinks two drinks and is fine?"

"Sometimes three. Never seen him act drunk before."

"You had other customers inside then?"

"Sure, though it was early. We get busy late."

"Are you saying that no one even sat near him?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm . . . . wait, someone sit down next to him. No one I know. He order beer and a shot. He drink them both fast and leave, so fast that I forget about him."

"Did this man talk to Mr. Fat?"

"Maybe a word or two when the man sit down. I hear nothing. Man only in here for two or three minutes. He leave ten spot on the bar and run out."

"What can you tell me about this other man?"

"Not much. Short, skinny. Not Chinese. Maybe Cambodian or Vietnamese."

"Could you see Mr. Fat's taxi from the bar?"

"No."

"You've been most helpful, thank you."

McCall left and drove to the spot where Mickey had been hit. His cell phone rang as he drove. Jimmy passed on the findings of the police to date.

"Cab had been hot wired. Cops have no leads. Absent further evidence are going to treat it as an accident."

"The basis for that decision would be what?"

"Cops figure the guy stole the cab, accidentally hit Mickey, panicked, ditched the evidence and ran. You want us to pressure them to look harder?"

"I think we would do better to handle this internally."

"It will be difficult to get Control's attention with one foot out the door and not much to go on."

"Try. I shall continue my inquiries in any event."

McCall called Control after hanging up with Jimmy.

"Look, Robert, an unidentified Asian who glanced him with a car is not much to go on. You know his history. Mickey did two tours in 'Nam. After he made SEAL, there were more visits to Nam and Cambodia, all classified. Then there was the Mayaguez fiasco."

"I remember that all too well -- the end of Mickey's naval career and the beginning of his time with the Company."

"Mickey wasn't back in Asia again until the mid eighties when the Khmer Rouge threatened Thailand," Control said.

"If this act was by someone from those ancient times, I doubt the perpetrator would have only tried to wound Mickey. Mickey in the trenches, well, let's just say that even I remain wary of that persona. Can you not find anything in his records which might suggest a possibility from later, much later?"

"How about when you two got involved with that kidnapped boy in Chinatown? You left a bloody mess behind."

"Mickey wasn't even involved until the end. It seems unlikely."

"Mickey blew away a bunch of thugs, Robert. Even thugs have family."

"Then have someone check on it. Focus on any who are Vietnamese or Cambodian, but get me all the possibilities. Maybe one of them lived."

"Robert, there's only so much I can allocate to this."

"Then just send me the bloody information and I'll look into it."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"It is what you intended all along." 

"The files will be at your apartment by late afternoon. By the by, Robert, I'm hoping for something more memorable than a watch from you."

"Bugger off," Robert said as he hung up.

Robert made another call. "This is Robert McCall. I need to ask a favor." Ten minutes later, a wiry teenage boy met him at the scene of the accident. "My, my! Look how you've grown!"

"Thanks to you and Mr. Kostmayer."

"It was our pleasure, Vincent," McCall acknowledged to the young boy mistakenly kidnapped many years earlier.

"So what do you need?"

"Mr. Kostmayer was injured here yesterday. I hope that people here will speak more freely to you than me. I want to find out more about what happened. Particularly I would like to identify the driver of the taxi."

"I can help, no problem."

Vincent made the questioning go smoother and faster, but no one, it seemed, saw or heard anything more useful than the original witness. Facing a dead-end, McCall and Vincent worked backwards. They walked toward the subway exit two blocks earlier where Mickey emerged. If Mickey had been targeted, chances are the cab followed him for a while until the right opportunity arrived. The subway would be the starting point.

Vincent and McCall interviewed all the shopkeepers by the subway exit. One recalled a cab that lingered that evening.

"In front of restaurant, the no parking zone, taxi sat the other night. Take-out customers always park there. We run food out to them. Customers come in and complain. I shoo taxi away but he not leave until I threaten to call cops. Then he back five minutes later. I almost call cops, but he leave before I go back out again."

Unfortunately, the shopkeeper had no better description of the driver than the bartender. McCall sent Vincent home. "Thanks for your help, Vincent."

"Is that all I can do?"

"For now. Tell your mother I send my regards."

"You tell Mr. Kostmayer that we wish him a speedy recovery."

"I will do that. Take good care. I may find I need your help again soon."

"Anytime."

McCall returned to his car. He called Mickey on the way. "How do you feel?"

"Like leaving here."

"What is the opinion of the doctors in this regard?"

"I'm free to go this afternoon."

"I shall pick you up."

"That's okay. Jimmy can take me."

"No, I require your assistance. I shall be there."


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Dead Ends **

McCall arrived at 4:45, accompanied by a nurse in a wheelchair. Mickey paced like a caged, albeit wounded, tiger. With a groan, he sat down in the obligatory wheelchair. "Home, James," he joked.

"We have another destination."

"Not the safe house?" Mickey groaned.

"No, my place."

"Do I get a choice?"

"No." McCall shot Jimmy a look that told him what he wanted: "follow us."

The effort expended in walking to and entering the car wore Mickey out, so much so that he did not ask McCall a single question on the ride. Still, both he and McCall kept a close eye on the mirrors for anyone following. Neither saw anyone but Jimmy.

Exiting the car and entering McCall's building, which required ascending several steps, further taxed Mickey. McCall worried. "You are certain the doctor signed off on your discharge?"

In response, Mickey simply raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes.

McCall summoned the elevator. A bumpy stop at McCall's floor led Mickey to wince. McCall opened the apartment door for him. Mickey immediately settled onto the couch, sitting uncomfortably upright. He pointed to his feet. "Do you mind?"

"The shoes, no, of course not." McCall took them off. "I suppose you would like a pillow too?"

"Wouldn't mind one."

"No problem. I shall order up some soup too."

"Nursing care here beats there already."

"There is a stack of files on the table for you to peruse."

"I knew there was a catch."

"The driver was Asian, probably Cambodian or Vietnamese."

"That's all we have?"

"He also had access to street drugs and can hot wire a car."

"Oh, that's really gonna help." Mickey picked up a file, then another, but soon fell into a nap. The doorbell woke him.

"Soup has arrived," McCall announced.

Mickey eased upward from his semi-prone position. He hurt, less than yesterday, but still plenty. He sipped his wanton soup two-handed. "Is this theme night?"

"Had it been, I would have ordered pho."

"You suppose it's some kid whose dad I left dying on the bottom of the Mekong River?"

"Unlikely, unless you left a business card."

McCall picked up a folder and leafed through it. He followed with another. Mickey finished sipping his broth and then joined McCall in reviewing folders. After Mickey threw the folder from the Cambodia mission down on the table, McCall picked it up.

"That was nine years ago, McCall."

"There's very little in here. What really happened?"

"We did our best to keep the brothels of Thailand safe from infiltration by the Khmer Rouge."

"Helped separate the wheat from the chaff?"

"The Thai didn't particularly want either."

"Did you leave anyone with cause for resentment?"

"Of course. Could I name any one in particular? No. This stuff is stale as can be."

"Is there something more recent that Control has omitted to send?"

"Not involving Asians."

"Well, perhaps the driver was only a hired hand."

"And that's gonna help how?"

"If we find him, we can find who hired him."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

"There is another avenue to explore. I believe the cab laid in wait for you."

"How could he know I'd be there?"

"You tell me."

"I didn't tell anyone my plans."

"You had to tell Ms. Cantrell. How did you arrange that night?"

"You're not suggesting that Elise had anything to do with my accident?"

"No. I am just trying to piece together the facts. Someone may have overheard you or even listened intentionally."

"Christ, let me think. When we were out last Saturday, we talked about catching a movie and dinner in Chinatown over the next weekend, but there were no specifics."

"When were those made and from where?"

"Hell, I don't remember. We play a lot of phone tag. First call was Thursday from the office, I think."

"Where did you call her?"

"I called her office. I left a message there, but it was late, so I left a message for her at home too. Then later she called me at my place."

"Either or both of you may be under surveillance."

"I need to call her and warn her."

"No, I'll take care of that."

"Why?"

"Do you honestly want to know?"

"If I can't count on you to shoot straight with me, I can't count on anything."

"Something about Elise Cantrell seems off to me."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet. It may just be instinct."

"She saved my life, McCall. I know her. She wouldn't be involved in this. There's no possible way."

"I am not suggesting that she's involved in your accident, Mickey. It's something more vague than that -- maybe just a concern about her emotional stability."

I saw her under fire, McCall. She's good, damn good."

"I'm glad to hear that. However, that's not what I mean. She and I had a general discussion about relationships in this business. She seemed resigned to the fact that they rarely survive the job. You being targeted may have brought to the forefront certain concerns, highlighted a vulnerability so to speak, one that she is uncomfortable having."

"Get out before you get hurt, you mean?"

"She has indicated an unwillingness to go forward with you. For now, I think you should respect it and stay out of contact with her, especially until we establish where it was your plans were overheard."

"I suppose you're right."

"Get some rest. I've got some calls to make."

McCall's next call to the Company further confirmed his concerns that this was a plot. Jimmy filled him in.

"Two things. The hospital found traces of a drug in the cab's regular driver."

"No surprise. What kind?"

"Date rape drug."

"I see. The second thing?"

"Mickey's place was bugged."

"His phone?"

"No. You're gonna love this one: a listening device hidden in a refrigerator magnet that holds a pen. It has the name of a take-out restaurant on it, but get this, the restaurant manager claims he didn't order them and has never seen them. We're trying to track down the source of them."

"What about that other matter?"

"The lady friend's apartment? Control said no way, to let the Bureau look into that."

"Ah, right. So what happened when you went to her apartment?"

"Someone else was taking care of it, so I scrammed."

"Did you learn anything else about her?"

"Not much. She ran down the police report and checked on the driver after she left you last night. Otherwise, to all reports, she straight as an arrow and has a file full of commendations."

"Nothing else."

"Not as far back as the computerized records go, clean as a whistle."

"Do you think you and a couple others can keep an eye on her for a while?"

"Won't be easy. If she's sharp as everyone says, she'll make us in no time."

"Have everyone give a wide berth but make an effort to keep track of her comings and goings at least. See if you can find someone at the Bureau who can tell us more about her personal life."

"Should I focus on anything in particular?"

"No. Just see if anything seems off kilter. I think Mickey's in thicker than he'll admit."

"I'm sure the Bureau would give her protection if we talked to them."

"If the sweep of her place turned up anything, I'm sure the Bureau will get right on it."

McCall checked back on Mickey, who had fallen asleep. McCall covered his friend with a blanket, stood over him a moment and shook his head. "I shall find answers for you, my friend." McCall then retired for the night.

In the morning, Mickey was brewing coffee when McCall emerged.

"Feeling better?"

"Just ducky."

"Jimmy's going to drop off some fresh clothes for you this morning."

"Has he found out anything?"

"He found a listening device in a take-out magnet on your fridge -- the one that held the pen."

"Clever. I must get two take-out magnets a week. I manage to keep the one with the bug."

"Maybe they knew you can never find a pen when you need one."

"Neither can half the population."

"Which is exactly why the ruse succeeded."

"What about Elly's place?"

"Elly?"

"Elise."

"I believe she had her own people look into that. I shall call her at the office shortly to inquire what was found, if anything."

"So did you learn anything more about her?"

"That she is an outstanding agent."

"I told you that."

"Indeed, you did. She even took it upon herself to review the police report and to research the putative driver of the cab."

Mickey grinned. "I'd have done the same if it was her. So what's still bothering you so much?"

"Why someone with such a strong sense of and commitment to justice would so easily walk away from you when you are under attack?"

"She obviously didn't," Mickey smiled. "She's looking into it. After you strong armed her the other night, she knows you've got my back covered. She's just stepped out of the way for the time being while she works from a different angle."

"I haven't seen you smitten since Serena, Mickey. It concerns me."

"Being in the line of fire from the unknown worries me, McCall. You hang with me, then you're wearing a bull's eye too."

"Showing that Ms. Cantrell is perhaps the wiser fool than I?"

"Almost certainly," Mickey laughed.

"All right, then. After we eat breakfast, you get back to contemplating files while this fool make some calls."

McCall retreated to the bedroom to make his calls. His second one was to Elise Cantrell at work. McCall was surprised to catch her at the phone. "Good morning, Elise. It's Robert McCall."

"I know."

"I thought I would let you know that Mickey has been discharged and is healing well."

"Glad to hear it. Thanks."

"You should also know that we did discover a bug at his apartment."

"I'm not glad to hear that."

"Nor I. However, it may give us further leads which we certainly could use. I wondered whether you had your place checked."

"It was clean."

"The bug in Mickey's apartment was not on the phone line. It was a refrigerator magnet that held a pen."

"My place was clean."

"Good, good. For your sake, I'm glad to hear it."

"Anything else?"

"Not at this time. Mickey does appreciate that you are attempting to assist in the investigation, however."

"Did you have to go and tell him that?"

"It greatly improved his spirits."

"It's really over, McCall. He shouldn't think otherwise. Fini. Done."

"Sadly, the heart rarely relents as easily as the brain might wish."

"I have work to do if we have no further business."

"Right, then. Just be sure to keep an eye open for trouble. Please feel free to call me anytime."

McCall pondered the conversation a few moments before he made several more unsatisfying phone calls. When McCall emerged, Jimmy sat on the couch and Mickey was missing.

"Mickey's cleaning up and changing."

"You have anything new for me?"

"Just the name of a retired fed who probably knew her when she started with the Bureau. As I said, the computerized records don't go back that far and unless we want to take this to another level, getting the physical records is an issue. Otherwise, I got nothing. The lady has no personal life as far as we know."

"Thanks. Will you stay with Mickey while I go see this man?"

"Well, since it's raining cats and dogs, I guess I can sit and do nothing here as easily as anywhere else."

"I'll check in with you later."

McCall drove to New Jersey, to an assisted living center. He found retired F.B.I. agent Frank Woodham in his apartment watching a Cubs game on the Superstation.

"Mr. Woodham, I'm Robert McCall. I used to work for the Company. I'd like to talk to you about one of your operatives."

"It's just plain Frank now."

"Right, and I am Robert."

"If you're retired, why would you want to know about my people?"

"I freelance occasionally and a friend of mine, still active with the Company, is involved with this agent. An attempt was recently made on my friend's life."

"You suspect one of mine?"

"We have very few leads and I'm just trying to cover every possible base. The agent is Elise Cantrell."

"Elise . . . involved? . . . . No, no way."

"They've been dating three months. Apparently, she saved Mickey from a bullet in the back shortly after they met."

"Sounds like her, not the involved part, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. McCall, Robert, I can't possibly discuss this further with you until I know more about you."

"Of course. Call whomever you like. I'll wait if that's okay with you."

Fifteen minutes later, Frank Woodham returned from his bedroom. "I'm impressed. Now what exactly do you want to know?"

"About Elise Cantrell, personally."

"I brought her into this business, met her on a college recruiting excursion. She's bright, fluent in several languages, has great instincts and is tough as nails."

"Yet you bristled when I said she was involved with my friend?"

"Elise doesn't get involved."

"Why?"

"Because it's the only smart choice in this business. You don't see anybody by my side, do you? The job takes it all."

"She sounds very much like you."

"Not surprising. I was like her father in those early days. Even that much was a mistake. Left us exposed unnecessarily."

"Someone tried to get at you through her?"

"No. It was the other way around."

"Were you hurt?"

"I nearly lost my leg."

"She felt responsible?"

"No, that was the perps, but she felt bad."

"What happened to my friend, the attempt on his life, as far as we know, it had nothing to do with her. Yet she backed off the relationship immediately."

"The target doesn't matter much. You reach a point where you just don't want to deal with it, you can't. It takes too much out of you. She must have forgotten. It's been a long time."

"Is that what she did after you were hurt, distance herself?"

"Until the perps were collared, yes. Afterward, she moved away."

"Do you have any contact with her now?"

"The infrequent note."

"Is there anything else I should know about her?"

"No. I am sorry about your friend. It sucks that this business doesn't leave room for a normal life. Everybody should have a decent shot at that."

"I couldn't agree with you more. Thank you so much for your time. If you think of anything else you might want me to know, please call me at this number."

"Sure thing. Good to meet you."


	5. Chapter 5

**5. Unforeseen Consequences**

McCall was on his way to the car when his cell rang.

"It's Jimmy."

"Yes, Jimmy."

"Mickey tried to call the girlfriend at work. They said she would be gone for a while, that she'd taken a leave of absence. He wants out of here."

"Where does he plan to go?"

"Her apartment, I think."

"Put him on, please."

"McCall, something's not right here. I know it. I'm worried about her," Mickey said.

"I have the same feeling. However, I have no idea what good you think you can do with those ribs. I shall handle this."

"How?"

"I'll check her apartment."

"Promise to call me as soon as you know anything."

"I shall."

McCall immediately called Vinny. "Anything unusual this morning at Ms. Cantrell's apartment?"

"No. At 7:30, she left the apartment building. I followed her on the subway. She exited, dropped off a bag of dry cleaning on the way to her office, and went in through security. I broke off then as instructed."

"Did she pass any dry cleaners on the way to the subway?"

"Sure, two or three. Why?"

"Why would you take your dry cleaning on a crowded subway if you can leave it close to home?"

"Guess she likes a certain dry cleaner. Is there a problem?"

"Go back and keep a watch on her apartment."

McCall called Jimmy back. "I need more personal information on her. You said the computerized file didn't go back all the way. What did it say about her background, when she started, where she went to school, etc.?"

"Let me think. The line items began when the computer system began to be used for personnel records in 1985. Before then, records were handwritten. Let me think a moment about the left panel of the file. Date of birth was 1956. Employment date was sometime in 1982. There was nothing on school. That's all."

"The year 1982 was the first employment date, you're absolutely certain?"

"Yes, I'm positive."

"See if Mickey knows where she went to college, please." McCall heard Jimmy yell out to Mickey.

"Yale."

"I'll be at least another hour, possibly longer. Do not permit Mickey to leave."

McCall called a friend at the Company. "I need an immediate background check on an FBI agent named Elise Cantrell. She should have graduated from Yale University around 1978. Call me with the information as it becomes available. Do not talk to Mickey about this."

McCall sat in the car for a while thinking. Ten minutes later, he received a call. Afterward, he got back out of the car and returned to Frank Woodham's apartment.

"Back again so soon?"

"Who is Elise Cantrell?"

"One of the finest agents I ever worked with. I already told you that."

"There was no Elise Cantrell who graduated from Yale during that period. Furthermore, her employment records do not support the assertion that she went to work for the Bureau immediately after college."

"Well, the records are mistaken."

"The college records too?"

"I'm sure it's just a mix-up."

"What years did you work with Elise Cantrell?"

"From the beginning."

"Who else would remember her from then?"

"Been a lot of change in personnel. I'd have to think about who is where now. I don't keep up too much anymore."

"I will ask you again, Mr. Woodham, who is Elise Cantrell? Understand that I will track this information down in other ways if you persist in lying to me. A friend of mine who cares about her deeply has been hurt, purposely struck by a car. I had assumed it was related to his work, but that assumption is being undercut by what I don't know about Ms. Cantrell. With or without your help, I shall protect my friend. Is there some reason you are averse to helping me do that?"

"I . . . I admire your loyalty to your friend. I understand that kind of deep loyalty. I don't want to see Elise hurt either."

"Mr. Woodham, Frank, if you checked me out, you will know that I am honest and discreet. I shall not use any information you give me inappropriately. Nor do I wish to endanger her."

"Then stop investigating her. If you continue, you will put her in danger."

McCall's cell phone interrupted. "Pardon me one moment."

"It's Jimmy. If she worked for the Bureau before 1982, there's no finding proof of it in New York. We'd have to rattle cages in Washington to see if there are paper files elsewhere. The computer records don't cross reference any. What do you want to do next?"

"Hold off for now, Jimmy. I'll call you back shortly. Frank, my associates have yet to locate any records relating to Elise Cantrell prior to 1982. However, they have extraordinary access to all kinds of records should we choose to dig deeper. In respect of what you have said to me, I have put their inquiries on hold. I will stop them entirely if you choose to share what you know with me."

Frank Woodham's eyes clouded over. McCall could see the man breaking down. "She was like a daughter to me. They already took everything from us once. I can't be responsible for it happening again."

"I don't understand what you mean by 'it'."

"The more people who know, the greater the danger to her."

"I give you my word that I will use whatever you tell me to protect her to the full extent of my abilities."

"That's no guarantee."

"You and I both know that life comes with none. Tell me who was it who took everything from you?"

Frank Woodham's face looked drawn and pale. He did not seem well. "The mob."

"I see. I may presume then that Elise Cantrell is an alias?"

"Yes."

"Who was she before that?"

"She was my daughter-in-law."

"Is it Elise Woodham then?"

"No. When I met her, her name was Lisa Scarletti."

"Scarletti?" McCall's eyes widened. "Not related to . . ."

Frank Woodham didn't let him finish. "His daughter."

"You recruited John Scarletti's daughter to work for the Bureau?"

"Not exactly. She met me through my son. They were both at Yale. Frankie was on a full scholarship, finishing up a degree in sociology. He was going to go to law school and then save the world, starting with poor people first. Well, you can imagine my surprise when he brought home his girlfriend, Lisa Scarletti."

"Did he know she was the mob kingpin's daughter?"

"Yes. Lisa was very upfront about it. She knew what I did for a living and worried it would be a problem for me. For that reason, Frankie didn't tell me about her until he was ready to propose."

"Yes, that rather would raise some eyebrows at the office."

"It was a very awkward situation, even though Lisa really stayed away from her family as much as possible. But they were in love, and who was I to object? I liked her immensely from the beginning even as I worried about the situation."

"At what point did you ask her to turn on her family?"

"No, Mr. McCall, it didn't happen that way at all. Lisa was in her final term. They were planning to wed that summer. She was unsure about her future. Then one day out of the blue, she called and told me that she had interviewed with the Bureau."

"Did she tell you why?"

"When Lisa was seven, her father ordered the execution of her uncle. She witnessed it. It was only the beginning of what she saw. She didn't like any of it. So she decided to take that pricey education he bought her at the expense of drug addicts and terrorized shop owners and put it to a good cause.

"Wow. The Bureau must have been on cloud nine."

"Yes. They got married right after college. She went to training as Frankie started law school. They lived in a cute little house in the Bronx."

"Her family didn't know about any of this?"

"No. You know how it was with girls back then. Scarletti paid no mind to her. Didn't follow where she worked. Just wanted to know when she was going to get married and start with the bambinos. She kept her distance. The father kept his."

"Did he know about the marriage?"

"He thought she was shacking up, and he wasn't happy about it. He expected her to marry within the extended family."

"Wouldn't Scarletti have checked on your son, learned who he was?"

"Frankie went by his mother's last name, Solomon. We'd split up when he was young. The job, as I said. She felt he was safer that way. So did I."

"So how did she become Elise Cantrell?"

"What do you know about how Scarletti died?"

"He was executed mob-style. Everyone assumed it was the son who died that night or a rival. No one was ever tried for it."

"No one ever will be either."

"How does that tie in to Elise and your son?"

"Lisa insisted on using what she knew of her father's business to help the Bureau. After a number of concerns were addressed, she began spending more time with her family. Her father even took an interest in Frankie. He wanted to give him a job. Lisa wouldn't let him. Instead, Lisa used her brother, who was far from the brightest light in the family, to find things out about the business. In just a few months, she had amassed enough to nail Scarletti and his organization to the cross."

"I take it that something went wrong?"

"Yes. One of Scarletti's men saw Lisa copying documents. He reported it. Scarletti sent her a message to keep her nose out of the business. It was not 'women's business.'"

"What kind of message?"

"He arranged for Frankie to have a minor accident."

"For which she blamed herself?"

"It wasn't her fault. If it was anyone's, it was mine. I had no business letting her go after her father in the first instance. It was going to be the feather in my cap, the bust of a lifetime."

"So what happened next?"

"Scarletti started looking over his shoulder. He had people keep an eye on Lisa. He believed that Lisa, in spending so much time with Johnny, might actually be making a play to take over the business. He knew she was smart enough to do it, smarter than Johnny whom he groomed to do it. I should have pulled her out before then, but I was too concerned about blowing the indictment. I was padding the evidence. My waiting was the biggest mistake of a lifetime." Frank Woodham's eyes moistened.

"Take your time, Frank." Robert patted his back and handed him a tissue.

"Soon after that, Scarletti received information that our task force was preparing evidence to go to the grand jury."

"How?"

"He had to have had someone inside. Scarletti set Lisa up by giving Johnny some information that he told him not to share with anyone but Lisa. Lisa passed on the information. The informant reported back to Scarletti. Scarletti then confronted her with what he knew."

"I'm surprised he didn't just kill her immediately."

"No more than Lisa was."

"As I recall, Scarletti was known for his swift and clear retaliation. He was one of the bloodiest bosses."

"Retaliation has many forms."

"Indeed. You said you were shot to get at her."

"It was just the beginning of what Scarletti set in motion."

"Meaning?"

"After he confronted Lisa, he kept her -- under guard -- in his office. Not long after, Frankie left a message for her about my getting shot."

"Scarletti had discovered the relationship between you and your son by then?"

"Yes, that's how he let Lisa know that fact, by having me shot."

"I still can't fathom how she came out alive. Continue, please."

"She tried not to. She knew where it was all heading ultimately. She pleaded with her father. She promised not to go state's evidence. She asked him to kill her to make sure if he wanted, but she begged him to leave Frankie alone."

"I don't like the sound of where this is headed at all."

"No, Scarletti planned to terrorize his daughter before he let her die. He told Johnny, Jr. and two goons take Lisa back to the house in the Bronx. She was in the trunk tied up and gagged, of course. You have any guess what Scarletti's instructions to his son were?"

"Nothing pleasant."

"His exact words to Johnny, Jr. were these: 'Teach your sister a lesson that she'll remember in hell. Start with the boyfriend.'"

"Oh, my lord."

"They waited in Lisa's house. They tied Lisa up to the bed and left her there. A couple of hours later, when Frankie showed up, the goons took him into the bedroom and in front of Lisa beat him until he couldn't get up from the floor. Then Johnny had his goons haul him up to his knees and hold him as Johnny put a gun to his head. Elise thought he was going to fire. She was so frantic that she managed to break free from the bed post."

"Not for long, I imagine."

"No. Just long enough to touch her brother before she was tackled by the goons. Johnny apparently lost it then. He started to go after Lisa, hitting her as they held her. He screamed at her. 'No one fucks with Johnny Scarletti, Jr.. You fuck with me and I fuck you twice over."

Frank Woodham's eyes now teared freely. His body shuddered. "Mr. McCall, I really don't want to tell you the rest."

"I can understand why. However, I still don't see how Lisa Scarletti got out of there alive?"

"Alive is a relative term."

"Are you saying they just left her for dead without checking? That would have been insanely reckless."

"I can't go into the details, I just can't." Frank Woodham sobbed.

McCall sensed that what Frank Woodham said was not what he meant. "Frank, I can see you are in much pain, that you carry a great burden. I promise that if you tell me what happened, I shall not share it with anyone. I shall only use that information to help her and those she cares about."

Frank Woodham eyes ran freely. "I've never told anyone. It was all my fault."

""Whatever happened was not done by you. You therefore are not at fault."

"You wouldn't feel that way, not if she were like a daughter to you, not if your recklessness led to that."

"What are you saying happened? I don't follow."

"When Johnny said what he did to her, it wasn't just words."

"For Christ's sake, you don't mean . . . he actually . . ." McCall couldn't fathom it, let alone say it.

"In front of Frankie. Afterward, they must have let their guard down. Lisa managed to grab a gun from one of the goons. She rolled to the floor and shot the two goons. Frankie had set his gun down earlier. Caught, he held his arms up in the air, pleading with his sister for mercy. Lisa did as she was trained. She first made sure the two goons were down for good and secured their weapons. As she did that, Johnny dropped to the floor by Frankie, sobbing how sorry he was, begging her to please forgive him."

"Please tell me she put a bullet through his chest next."

"No, by the time she got there, Johnny had pulled a knife, which he held at Frankie's throat. Johnny ordered Lisa to drop the gun or he would kill Frankie. She dropped it. Johnny hauled Frankie to standing and used him as a shield as he backed out of the bedroom door. Then Lisa saw a sea change on Frankie's face. She dove for the gun, grabbed it and shot Johnny as Frankie fell away. She blew off Johnny's knife hand. Afterward, with nothing between her and her brother, she shot him in one leg, and then the other. She went to shoot him again, but the cartridge had emptied. She grabbed the knife he'd killed Frankie with. It took dental records to confirm the identify of what was left of John Scarletti, Jr."

"Then Lisa called the authorities?"

"No, she left."

"Scarletti, the father, was still alive at the time?" McCall asked.

"Yes. She went back to her father's house and killed him. She called me shortly afterward."

"What did she say?"

"'They're all dead. I couldn't save Frankie. I tried. I'm so sorry. I'm going back home now to be with him.' I persuaded her to go to a safe house instead. I called my superior and filled him in. He discovered there hadn't even been a police call yet. All the guns had silencers. Later, the neighbors thought it had been a bit rowdier than normal, but no one noticed the whole damn massacre. In the end, that was Lisa's salvation. My team added a body to the report, Lisa's, and even carried out an extra body bag stuffed with pillows. The coroner wrote up her death without ever seeing a body."

"Thus Elise Cantrell was born?"

"After a very difficult year, yes."

"Her past was simply erased?"

"Erased, avoided. She spent the next dozen or so years away from New York. I discouraged her from ever returning."

"Do you have a picture of her when she was Lisa Scarletti?"

"Yes." Frank Woodham rose unsteadily and plucked an album off the bookshelf. He opened to a wedding picture of Lisa and Frankie.

"I would hardly recognize her as the same woman."

"No. When she left, she was just a girl. She changed her hair color and style and her body changed too."

"Indeed, so much so that one wonders if anyone might recognize her from then?"

"Most of her family is gone now, but there's always a chance."

"What about your team? They knew you'd faked her death at the scene."

"Only one's still alive. He's retired, living in Arizona. He never told a soul, I'd stake my life on that."

"One wonders if someone did recognize her at this point, would anyone attempt to retaliate for her betrayal -- assuming anyone could even piece together the truth of what happened?"

"No, it's so long ago. It's irrelevant now."

"Family business has been known to hang on for generations. What about the leak at the Bureau, was it ever discovered?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"So there is someone who might recognize her and fear being discovered?"

"Lisa never knew the leak; she presents no direct threat to him or her."

"The leak might worry otherwise, be concerned that she's alive, back and maybe investigating the past, or the leak might see an opportunity to cash in by selling the information of her survival to the family."

"One thing Lisa is not doing is investigating the past or the family. That's strictly off limits to her and she knows it. As for the leak visually recognizing Lisa, I can't see how. You have to understand that Lisa herself never worked out of the office. That would have been too crazy dangerous to have the mob boss' daughter at the FBI office."

"Other agents knew her, though."

"Not really. She reported directly to me and my superior; that's it. Even my friend in Arizona never saw her. He only knew she was our agent inside."

"She went to the Academy. She was seen and known there."

"Not by her family name, though. She went as Solomon then and it wasn't like pictures of Lisa Scarletti were a dime a dozen. The newspapers of the day knew to steer clear of the women in the family."

"Somewhere out there, Frank, I fear there is someone who has recognized her, someone who poses a threat to her and those around her."

"If so, then history may repeat itself."

"Not if I can help it. I appreciate your sharing all this with me, Frank. I apologize for making you relive those times. I know how hard it is to lose a child. I lost my daughter when she was young."

"It never leaves you, not for a moment, what you missed, what you did wrong, what you wish you'd done better, the times that might have been."

"Yes, all that and more.

"Do you sincerely think that your friend getting hurt might have anything to do with Elise?"

"It's a possibility that has to be considered, especially given Elise's sudden disappearance. If you think of anything else, please let me know."

"It's so hard to think back and, well, after so long, it seemed over forever."

"I hope you are right. Stay in touch, please."

"You'll let me know if you find out anything?"

"Of course, but I'll not say a word of what you told me to anyone, I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Tough Decisions**

It was late evening when McCall returned home. Mickey was fit to be tied. "Did you find out anything? Is Elise okay?"

"I have no reason to believe otherwise."

"Tell me what you know."

"Mickey, each of us has our demons, things we can live with, things we can't. You haven't known Ms. Cantrell long enough to know what hers are. You must let it go, for now, at least."

Vinny arrived just then, interrupting their conversation with the delivery of take-out food and a brief report. "No action at your place, Mickey; no sign of the lady at hers. Here's your mail."

Mickey parsed his mail. "No threats, no warnings, nothing. Well, the gas bill is kind of frightening," Mickey said.

"Your pursuer could be patient. He could be building to a climax. Think of who might act that way."

"Oh, Jesus, McCall. It's not like I haven't used that tactic on anyone. Do you really think this might be payback?"

"It is possible."

"I just don't see it," Mickey said. "Hey, whatever happened to that sadistic KGB bastard who grabbed me?"

"I don't really know. He would be the type to play games, however."

"I never even saw his face clearly."

"No, I don't think you could have."

Silence resumed. The months that followed Mickey's kidnapping and torture were difficult. Mickey's "debriefing" required him to relive the experience as the Company mandated that he be cleared by a psychologist before returning to duty. Mickey resented every moment of it. He only wanted to forget it and move forward. Once he returned to work, he was treated as damaged goods for some time. Mickey never capitulated. He just did what he had always done. Even McCall was surprised how fast he came back. Lisa Scarletti had done the same, McCall thought. In a way, they were peas in a pod. He could not tell that to Mickey, however; he had given his word.

Vinny eventually broke the silence. "I'll check on the Russian. The reports on the guys you took out in Chinatown a few years back should be available soon. I'll send that over." Vinny couldn't leave fast enough.

Mickey excused himself quickly. "I'm gonna hit the sack, McCall."

"We'll come up with an idea by morning."

"Something better than standing in the middle of 5th Avenue and yelling 'come and get me,' I hope."

"Something far better than that."

McCall slept uneasily. He could not see why someone with a beef with Mickey would stop with an effort to wound. If so, two days later, there should have been at least a warning or a gloat, something. He kept thinking about Elise Cantrell as somehow being the real target. That was the ultimate torture after all -- to go after someone you care about. If so, given her past, Elise might have cut and run to try to protect Mickey. Apart from a total lack of evidence that it had happened, it worked as a theory. In the middle of the night, McCall decided the theory required further research. At two a.m., he called to request information about the Scarletti family and their successors.

During the rest of the night, McCall replayed Woodham's tale over in his head. Lisa Scarletti was in way over her head. How many times had McCall seen it happen, a young agent brimming with confidence set up for failure? He found it hard to fathom how Lisa Scarletti had come back to the job after that.

In the morning, McCall found Mickey feeling greatly improved. He had cooked breakfast for them both before McCall emerged from his bedroom.

"I'm going home today," Mickey announced. "No one's going to come at me if I stay here. I'll go stir crazy. I say we treat it as an accident and see what happens next."

"With some precautions in place, I have no objections."

"Tired of me as a roommate already?"

"No, Mickey. What would you say if I told you that I doubt anything else will happen to you next?"

"I'd be surprised."

"I have a theory."

"Which is?"

"I do not think you were the primary target of the act."

"Excuse me? It was the car and me, nobody else was around."

"I know that, but I think that you may have been used as collateral to get at someone else."

"Elise? You think someone hurt me to scare Elise off something she was working on?"

"Yes, and if that is the case, they appear to have succeeded."

"Shit. We have to find her."

"I would be happy to help in that, but first you must consider whether that would be the best thing for her."

"Huh?"

"You could respect her decision to disappear."

"A decision made out of fear?"

"I don't think we can presume that."

"I don't follow you."

"She may have disappeared, but that doesn't mean she's yielded the fight. If we try to find her, we may interfere with her own process. We could cause her more trouble."

"How can we figure that out?"

"It will require assistance from someone at the Bureau."

"You can call in some favors?"

"Yes, I can. However, I want you to think it over carefully first. Take into account her point of view and what you know of her personality."

Mickey shrugged.

"Also, if we proceed, I will need to know every detail you can give me about Ms. Cantrell."

"Every? I don't think so, McCall."

"You know what I mean. Go home, think about it, and call me."

Mickey left with Vinny. His ribs seemed greatly improved, which encouraged McCall. One hour later, Jimmy dropped off a package. "It's the first round of what you asked for."

McCall started with the skinnier file first, the one on "Elise Cantrell." Besides her employment dossier -- the computerized version Jimmy had told him of before -- there were a few newspaper clippings. You couldn't see her face very well in the pictures, but the taut body of the fighter she'd become was evident in the clippings from the specialty sports papers: Elise Cantrell, Western Region champion in American Karate. Aside from that, there was nothing.

The Scarletti file didn't have much more on her. Consistent with what Frank Woodham had said, Lisa Scarletti was nearly invisible in the pictures, clippings and reports. The only file photos of the female members of the family were not public, but Bureau taken pictures. None were very good.

The report of John Scarletti's death didn't enlighten McCall in any way. Nor did pictures and reports of the funeral. The only member of the immediate family who appeared at John Scarletti's funeral was his wife, Barbara Scarletti. Their only children had both died on the same night. In the sole picture from Scarletti's funeral, Mrs. Scarletti looked distraught and lost beyond description.

In the aftermath of Scarletti's death, a power void followed. Six months later, after some violence ensued, a new leader emerged: one Joseph Bonnano. He had been a leader under Scarletti, albeit one with a very different style. Bonnano was a widower with one son, less than cleverly dubbed Joseph Bonnano, Jr., who was also involved in the family business. The son had been educated at Princeton and was predicted to succeed his father in the distant future. The reign of Joseph Bonnano had, to date, proved much less brutal than Scarletti's.

The Company's quickly thrown together research ended there. The Bureau's files would be much deeper, and McCall considered whether he might need them, when a lingering question disturbed him. McCall called the Company. He heard back twenty minutes later.

"Joseph Bonnano married her."

Lisa Scarletti's mother survived and married her father's successor. McCall asked for detailed follow up on the mother. Next he called Frank Woodham. "What do you know about Barbara Scarletti?"

"She was perceived to be a nonentity, a mother to his children, but otherwise of little import to John Scarletti."

"Where was she the night that Scarletti was killed?"

"I don't know. Home, I assume. I never even thought about it, she was such a quiet presence."

"I see. Thank you very much."

McCall had a bite for lunch and headed over to Mickey's.

"Anything new?" Mickey asked as McCall entered.

"No, it may be several days."

"We should check her apartment."

"It's been watched for the last two days."

"We should go in and look for ideas."

"I assume that means you've made a decision."

"I'm not going to leave her hanging her out there. You know me better than that."

"So did she, Mickey. Still, she expressed a wish that you do so."

"I don't need to be protected."

"What if she does, but not the way you think?"

"McCall, if you know something, just tell me."

"I do not. It is just a supposition."

"What do you suppose?"

"That the best thing for her is not to feel responsible for another life being injured or taken as a consequence of her actions, especially not someone for whom she cares."

"Huh?"

"Put yourself in her position. If she were endangered because of her association with you, what would you do?"

"She's one of us, McCall."

"That makes it different?"

"It should."

"Yet it doesn't really, does it?"

"No, I guess not."

"Then is your answer different?"

"No. I want to make sure she's safe. I'll personally stay away if I have to, but I need to know she's okay."

"All right, then. It is time to tell me all you know about Ms. Elise Cantrell."

"It was all kind of here and now, McCall. She'd only come back to New York a year and a half ago or so, after kicking around in Texas, Georgia, Miami and Vegas. She doesn't like deserts or Texas."

"Where did she like to go out in New York?"

"Mostly we stuck to Manhattan."

"Where did you go?"

"Restaurants, movies. Caught a Knicks game once."

"What kinds of restaurants?"

"Nothing in particular. She likes Chinese food, ethnic food. Kinda cool on Italian."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I wanted to take her to that place in Little Italy I like. Took some convincing."

"But she went?"

"Yeah."

"But what?"

"It was an off night."

"In what way?"

"She just didn't seem relaxed. Kept looking around as if she was working almost. Too much time on organized crime details to enjoy the place, I figured."

"Did she spot someone?"

"Not that she mentioned. Is there some reason you think this matters?"

"Any lead at this point is helpful."

"Something odd did happen, now that I think about it. The waiter brought over a bottle of wine. Said a lady across the room sent it."

"Why?"

"Jeez, McCall, do I have to?"

"Yes."

"She said we reminded her of when she was young and in love."

"And you drank it?"

"It was a good bottle and it was sealed, so yeah."

"How did Elise react?"

"As I said, she seemed on edge that night. That didn't change it."

"Did you see the woman who sent it?"

"Yes, on the way out."

"And?"

"She said something nice, I don't remember exactly what. Wished us well or the like."

"Could you identify this woman?"

"Not from memory, no. Out of a line up, maybe."

"How did Elise react to her comment?"

"As I said, she seemed tense from the moment we got there. That never changed."

"After you left, did you learn what was bothering her?"

"We didn't discuss it."

"When was this?"

"Saturday, a week ago."

"Who paid for dinner?"

"I did."

"How?"

"Cash."

"Did you have reservations?"

"Yes."

"Under your real name?"

"Yes."

"Where did you go after the restaurant?"

Mickey hesitated. "My place."

"Together?"

"Yes."

"How did you get there?"

"We walked awhile and then took a taxi. And no, we weren't followed."

"You are certain of that?"

"McCall, we're not sixteen and we're both professionals."

"Did you see Elise again after that?"

"I tried. That was Chinatown. McCall, I see the line you're drawing, but I don't see any connection."

"No, I wouldn't expect you could."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"When I know more, so shall you."

"That's evasive."

"Yes, it is." McCall reached into his briefcase for a picture. "Do you recognize the woman in this picture?"

"That's the woman who sent the wine."

"I see."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Yes, for now."

"Why do you have her picture?"

"I had a hunch."

"Who is she?"

McCall hesitated before responding, deciding whether he should tell Mickey that much yet. "Her name is Barbara Bonnano."

"As in Joseph Bonnano?"

"Yes, his wife."

"He wasn't there with her. She was at a table full of women."

"No, I expect you would have recognized him had you seen him. If Elise recognized Mrs. Bonnano, the receipt of the wine from her must have made her uncomfortable, especially if she works organized crime detail."

"Maybe, but she didn't say anything to me about it or refuse the wine. And I'm pretty sure that she's been working on the Asian mob."

"Still, she'd probably know a good deal about the Bonnano family."

"Elise, yeah, she'd tune in even if it wasn't her detail. Still, I don't see how the wife could have known Elise was a fed. It would have to be just a coincidence."

McCall said nothing, for nearly anything he said would be a lie. He shrugged instead.

Mickey knew him too well. "Do you know something, McCall?"

"No, it's just a possible connection."

"How'd you make it without even knowing about our date at the restaurant?"

"Mickey, you will have difficulty accepting this, but you must. There are facts about which I am aware that I am not at liberty to tell you just now. In the end, these facts may have nothing to do with the attempt on your life or Elise's departure. I shall continue to follow up these facts. Meanwhile, it would be most helpful -- assuming you feel well enough to do so -- if you and Jimmy work towards finding the driver of the taxi. He is a crucial missing link."

Mickey nodded, stifling the many questions he had and showing his trust in McCall.

"Mickey, I am serious. Stay away from her apartment. Don't call, don't visit. You will do her a disservice if you do so."

"Sure, McCall. Jimmy and I are in the mood for Vietnamese food anyway."

McCall smiled and left. In his car, he called Vinny. "I will meet you at her apartment house in thirty minutes."


	7. Chapter 7

**7. Synthesis**

McCall entered the lobby of Elise Cantrell's prewar apartment building after ringing the doorman. After looking at McCall through the glass door, the doorman admitted him. "My name is Robert McCall. I have come to visit Ms. Cantrell. She is expecting me."

"I'll ring her." No one answered. "I'm sorry, she doesn't appear to be in, sir."

"Perhaps she is indisposed. I'll wait a few minutes and you can ring her again."

"If you like, sir."

"She'd be disappointed with me if I left, I'm sure."

"If you say so."

"You don't know Ms. Cantrell well, do you?"

"Hardly at all, sir. Just to say hello or goodbye."

"Ever meet her boyfriend?"

"No, didn't know there was one, but that might explain the flowers the other day."

"He sent flowers?"

"Just yesterday, a crazy, over the top, giant bunch of stargazer lilies. I thought I'd die by the time I took them up to her. I'm allergic."

"What a shame to be allergic to such a beautiful flower. I bet she was thrilled, however."

"Not so much, no. By the size of it, I'd guess that the guy was apologizing for doing something really terrible by sending flowers. If so, she didn't go for it. She read the card and then shoved the whole thing down the garbage chute."

"How sad. Do you by any chance recall the florist who delivered them? I know my wife would be delighted to receive some from me. For her, the bigger the better."

"No. I could look at the book, I suppose."

"Would you mind? Then you could ring Ms. Cantrell again for me."

"Yeah, here it is. Stella Luna's." He rang the house phone again. "I'm sorry sir, still no answer. Maybe you got the time wrong."

"Perhaps you're right, or she's forgotten. In any event, I'll stop pestering you, I'll call her later to see what happened."

"No bother at all, sir. Hope your wife enjoys the flowers."

Outside, Vinny still waited. McCall entered his car and sat in the passenger seat. He made a call before he addressed Vinny. "Ginger, call this number. Tell the doorman that the telephone company is on the way to repair your phone. You are not receiving incoming calls." He turned to Vinny. "After you pretend to check out the lines in the basement, I want you to enter her apartment from the fire escape. Be extremely cautious."

"You expect a booby-trap?"

"I think it possible."

"What do you want me to do if it's all clear?"

"Look around for anything and everything that might tell us about her."

"Right."

"If you need my help, call me. I expect I shall be nearby."

McCall called information to get the location of Stella Luna. He walked the two blocks there. "A friend of mine received a gorgeous bouquet from here the other day. I'd like to order the same one for my wife."

"What were they?"

"Lilies."

"Don't recall them. What kind?"

"Stargazers."

"Do they have to be exactly the same?"

"Oh, yes. My wife will feel slighted if they are not at least the same or grander."

"I'll have to look it up. When was this and to whom?"

"Elise Cantrell in the Kasper Arms, yesterday morning, I believe it was."

The man leafed through the book. "Yeah, here it is. Lord, that was a big one. You sure you want to spend that?"

"How much?"

"Two hundred dollars worth of stargazers, more like a funeral spray than a bouquet."

"I see. Well, could you do it now?"

"You want to wait?"

"It would save me some on delivery if I did, wouldn't it?"

"It'll take me a while, if I can find enough. The original order wasn't even ours. A florist in Queens couldn't fill it from stock so they sent it to us."

"Fascinating." As the shopkeeper went to check on his supply of stargazers, McCall gently maneuvered the order book so he could read it. Along with Elise's name and address, the order said: "cash t.b.d. Vitale's, card: Imagine my surprise! Mr. Kostmayer is adorable. Best wishes on your imminent move."

"Oh my," McCall shouted out as he returned the book to its original position. "I appear to have left my wallet home. I'll call you back later, if that's all right. So sorry." McCall exited without waiting for a reply.

Outside, McCall took a deep breath before he considered the implications of what he'd read. McCall felt satisfied that he'd solved the "whodunit" part of the crime. However, something about the message puzzled him deeply.

McCall decided to call Frank Woodham again. He had news to share with him, and also hoped Frank could provide some clarification. He was disappointed to get Frank Woodham's answering machine. McCall asked Frank to call as soon as possible. Moments later, his phone rang.

"Good call to avoid the front door. It's safe now," Vinny said.

"I shall join you shortly," McCall said as he neared the Kasper Arms. The doorman admitted McCall after receiving a call on the house phone from "Elise Cantrell," who in fact was Ginger patched through the intercom by Vinny.

"Find anything of interest?" McCall asked Vinny.

"Only that, rigged to blow on the door opening." Vinny pointed to a small explosive package -- a modest device designed to badly maim at the least, but one that wouldn't do serious damage to the building structure. "Otherwise, not a damn thing so far. Of course, someone's been here before us."

"Whoever was here obviously wasn't looking for anything. This place is too neat."

"You think the lady rigged her own door?"

McCall considered the possibility as he examined the device. "No, I think this was left for her. It's shoddy work. To all reports she's very methodical and careful. Look at this place. Can you see her slapping on duct tape like that?"

"No, I suppose. Nor did I find any duct tape. So, give me a hint what I should be looking for."

"I honestly don't know. Anything written that isn't generic."

"I'll finish the living room. You take the bedroom -- just in case there's anything of Mickey's here. I think he'd prefer you checking his shorts to me," Vinny laughed.

Each of them worked quietly for several minutes. Vinny called about a find. "Yo, McCall. Got a business card here. One of yours. There's some writing on the back. It looks like gibberish."

McCall stared at it. "No, it's a simple cipher. Take this back to Mickey. Tell him I'll be in touch soon."

"Anything else?"

"Not now. Thank you, Vinny."

McCall searched a few more minutes with little expectation of finding anything except the card he knew she'd left on purpose. Elise Cantrell was careful. He knew of only one major mistake she'd made since she'd returned to New York. "You can't go home again," McCall said aloud with sympathy. "Ms. Cantrell must care for you very much, Mickey, to have indulged your desire to visit Little Italy."

McCall left determined to talk to Frank Woodham once more before he approached Barbara Bonnano. After he again reached Woodham's answering machine, he called the main desk of the center where Woodham lived. Frank Woodham had been taken to the hospital with heart failure. McCall immediately drove to the hospital in Jersey. Woodham, plugged into machines, breathed shallowly as he lay in ICU. McCall explained that Woodham had no family left and obtained admission as a dear friend.

"The priest is on call to administer last rites. It could be minutes or hours. Comfort is all we can give him now. Sit with him as long as you like," the ICU nurse said.

McCall felt for Frank Woodham. Dying alone might be life's worst revenge. Frank acknowledged McCall's presence.

"You have news?" Woodham said softly.

"Frank, I must tell you how I regret the circumstances of our meeting. I hope it did not contribute to this."

Frank Woodham shook his head "no" gently.

"Is there no one I could summon for you? Your ex-wife, a former coworker, someone else?"

"My time is over. I've just been marking days." His voice was thready and weak.

"I believe I have discovered why my friend was injured, or at least who was behind it, but there are things I cannot understand without knowing more."

"I told you all I know."

"Elise Cantrell has disappeared. An explosive device was left in her apartment."

"Is she, do you think . . ."

"That she is dead? No. Do I think it probable soon? Again, I don't know enough to say. Maybe you can tell me based on what I tell you."

"I'd do anything to help her. She's all I have left."

"I'm sure she would be here with you now if she could be."

Frank nodded.

"Shortly before the attack on Mr. Kostmayer, Elise was observed dining with him at a restaurant in Little Italy. The observer was Mrs. Joseph Bonnano."

Frank sighed upon hearing it.

"No, don't talk yet. I know that she is Elise's, or Lisa's, mother. I am confident that she was behind the attack, or revealed information to her husband's organization that led to it. She sent Elise flowers after the attack on Mr. Kostmayer. The card noted my friend by proper name and essentially told Lisa to leave town immediately."

"She'll be dead soon then."

"What I want to know from you, Frank, is whether Barbara Scarletti knew her daughter was still alive? The note was very strangely worded."

Frank shook his head "no."

"No, she didn't know her daughter survived?"

"No. She came to the funeral."

"As did you, but you knew. Could she have had a suspicion that her daughter was not really dead?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Could the informant inside the Bureau have told her, then or later?"

"No. Less than a handful of senior people knew the truth. Every piece of paperwork connected with the case showed she was dead."

"I see."

"Does that clear anything up for you?"

"It tells me that Barbara Bonnano is one cool customer if the phrase she used to describe seeing her daughter after believing her dead was simply one of 'surprise'."

"Barbara Bonnano is a purebred in the world of mobsters, entrenched from birth."

"Which leads me to other questions. You said that after everyone at Lisa's house was dead, she called you from her father's house."

"I assumed she was still there, or had just left there. I never knew where the call originated, if you want the truth of it. Does it matter?"

"I am puzzled by how she got into her father's house that night, given he knew of her treachery by then."

"Johnny took her and two of his men from the house; he probably let his guard down."

"Perhaps. What was Barbara Scarletti's relationship with Lisa like?"

"Lisa never said much about her. I know her mother was the one who encouraged her to get a good education instead of marrying and pumping out babies. Her father wasn't happy about that."

"Do you think it is possible that Barbara Scarletti was aware that Lisa was investigating her father for the Bureau?"

"Absolutely not. Make no mistake, McCall," Frank Woodham said with agitation, "Lisa's mother had a great deal to lose if anything happened to John Scarletti. Lisa knew that better than anyone. She would never have brought her mother in on it. The risk of discovery was too high."

"Yes, I suppose so. That's enough then. I don't want to aggravate your condition."

"It won't change anything at this point. It's better for me to focus on something."

"Just a couple more questions, then. Was Barbara Scarletti home when her husband was killed?"

"She found the body and called the police."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"It wasn't even a matter of interest to us. We knew who killed him. Where Lisa's mother was at the time made no difference."

"No, I suppose not," McCall said, although he had other ideas. Unfortunately, McCall knew that Frank Woodham could not provide the answers to McCall's remaining questions.

"I have a favor to ask you," Frank Woodham strained to say.

"If I can be of help, certainly."

"Save her." Woodham's breath slackened off. His blood pressure and heart rate sank visibly on the monitor. McCall arose, spoke to the nurse, and slipped away.

Back in his car, McCall called Mickey's house. No answer meant that Mickey was back at work. He wondered if Mickey had received the card yet. Then he wondered how he could explain the situation to Mickey without breaking his promise to Frank Woodham.

McCall decided to catch up with Mickey later rather than interrupt him by cell phone. He had a more immediate goal: figuring the best way to meet and talk to Barbara Bonnano. McCall felt there must be more to the story.

When McCall arrived home, he put aside the entire matter for a few minutes. He stopped to call his children, Scott and Yvette, just to touch base. Seeing Frank Woodham dying alone impacted him hard. Afterward, he spent some quiet time showering, puttering around the apartment, and waiting for inspiration or information. Mickey's phone call caught him in deep thought and close to napping.

"Yes, Mickey."

"We've got seed money out all over Chinatown. No one's talking."

"It may take time. Did Vinny catch up with you?"

"Yes."

"Do you still want to continue to pursue this considering her message?"

"The message was defensive bullshit. She hasn't gone anywhere. We're just two steps behind her."

"Your meaning?"

"She'd covered Chinatown before we got here. Probably made more progress since she's been studying Mandarin for three years."

"Oh. Well, that's good news, I suppose. Rest up tonight. I've got some irons in the fire."

"Can you give me anything?"

"Very soon, I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

**8. Toeing a Fine Line**

McCall spent the remainder of the evening reviewing the information he had and waiting for more. The Bureau had been stingy sharing information. He did learn that Elise's detail in New York centered on Asian mob activity, specifically illegal gambling. He wondered how a white, Italian girl might break into that crowd. The answer came from two places: Mickey's comments and the sports articles in her file. She spoke some Chinese and was a white girl participating in an Asian sport. Gamblers will follow any kind of sporting action.

How to connect the Bonnanos and the Asian driver who struck Mickey bothered him greatly, however. To McCall's knowledge, those elements kept a respectful distance, the Asian mob and the Mafia. McCall made another phone call, this time to Jimmy. "The listening device, any leads?"

"The bug itself is nothing special, made in China. Not hard to find if you know where to look."

"It's not one that would be typically associated with any group?"

"No. Now the cover, the magnet, that came out of a Chinatown print shop. It was a small run, rush order. Enough for a couple of apartment buildings only."

"What do we know about the restaurant that ordered them?"

"It's one outpost of a local Italian staple."

"I'm on tenterhooks. Owned by whom?"

"That's a little hard to say. Incorporated and owned by other corporations. CEO of the one of the companies up the chain is Joseph Bonnano, Jr.."

"Tomorrow, take someone who speaks the language and rattle the cage of the print shop about our driver, a guy who can hot wire a car and suddenly has spare cash."

"Sure."

McCall reached a decision point. He knew that he could read every file on earth, but in the end, only two people could truly enlighten him: the former Lisa Scarletti, missing in action, and her mother, Barbara. Getting to the wife of the mob king would not be easy. Misplayed, it could increase the threat to Elise and, possibly, Mickey. Even as he worked out possible ways to talk to her, McCall hoped to avoid it somehow.

McCall finally called a friend at the Bureau, one outside Elise's chain of command. "Walter, I've been getting the run around. One of ours has been hurt in an effort to intimidate one of yours. Yours has gone missing. Her apartment was booby-trapped after she left. I need to know what she's been working on. It has something to do with gambling in Chinatown."

"I am aware of the situation, Robert."

"Then give me just a little more."

"I can only give you a word of advice. Stay clear. This has been a nearly two-year investigation and it's nearing its terminus."

"Elise Cantrell's identity may be compromised."

"She has given us assurances that the incident you reference is not related."

"You believe her?"

"Yes. I am aware of her background, Robert. That other matter is just that -- separate."

"I would not be so certain of that if I were you. If I am correct, the consequences to her and your operation could be disastrous."

"Unless you have concrete proof, drop it and stay out of the way. Get your people to stop snooping in Chinatown before they do the harm. Our business will be concluded in a matter of days." Walter hung up, forestalling further discussion.

McCall tossed and turned through the night. In the morning, he called Jimmy. "Forget Chinatown for now."

Next he called young Vincent. "Vincent, you must say no to me if you feel that this will put you in the slightest danger. I believe that sometime in the next several days, there is to be some kind of large, illegal wagering event, perhaps tied to fighting or karate. Do you have any idea how I might find that out without bringing in the pasty white faces of my associates and myself? Again, understand that I absolutely forbid you to take any risk in ascertaining this information."

"That kind of thing is going on all the time here. You can find a flyer around every street corner."

"I think this one would be a big event -- in a large space, with big prizes, side action."

"I can ask around. Guy I grew up with is deep into that stuff. He's always trying to get me to go with him. I don't care much for fighting so I never go. Then he tries to convince me to go for the girls."

"The girls?"

"Um, you know."

McCall heard embarrassment in Vincent's voice. "I see. Well, again, if you can inquire without risk, please get back to me."

"Sure thing, Mr. McCall."

McCall called Mickey next. "I need to talk to you."

"Okay, talk."

"Here."

"See you in twenty."

Mickey looked much improved. The bruise above the eye had turned yellow. His gait seemed nearly normal.

"How are the ribs?"

"Fine."

"I need an honest assessment."

"I wouldn't want to get punched there just now, but they're fine. Why?"

"Should we continue along our current path, your ability to maneuver may be relevant."

"I can maneuver if I need to. What have you found out?"

"A great deal, Mickey. Sadly, I have not yet assembled all the pieces and I may never do so."

"I don't care about all the pieces, just one."

"There is a great deal of activity swirling around Ms. Elise Cantrell. Unless we understand the source and the motivation, we may not be able to help her."

"All right, McCall, either tell me or don't already. I could be out there looking for her now."

"NO! Under no circumstances are you to be traipsing through Chinatown or elsewhere looking for her. You will only increase the danger to her and make yourself a target."

"Then explain it to me."

"Elise Cantrell's identity has been compromised. Though I cannot get into the how of the matter, members of the Bonnano family observed her on your dinner date. Using the reservation book, you were identified and placed under surveillance. Undoubtedly, so was she. To warn her, the Bonnano family arranged your meeting with the taxi."

"Using an Asian driver?"

"They delegated that job to confuse the matter, I suspect."

"You know this how?"

"I believe the connection is through the print shop that imprinted the restaurant magnets. I suspect that if we followed up more closely with the shop, we would find out more about the driver."

"Why don't we do that?"

"After your incident, Ms. Cantrell received her own warning. In reaction,she opted to make it appear as though she had been scared off and disappeared. She broke up with you and then abandoned her apartment. The Bonnano family attempted to insure she complied with their warning by planting an explosive device in her apartment."

"But I know she's still around."

"Alas, the cryptogram she left you did not have the desired effect."

"'Mickey, so sorry. Please stay away. Regrets.' No, that wouldn't work. No more the message she left on my machine the day after I was hit."

"Which was?"

"I'm surprised that you don't know that already."

"Had Jimmy done his job thoroughly, I would have."

"Distilled, it said sorry and goodbye; I'm leaving New York with no forwarding address."

"Those messages were for your own protection and hers too."

"It means she's still on the job. She must be going after the driver . . . or . . . not the Bonnanos?"

"No, I don't think she is pursuing the Bonnanos or that she ever had any intent to do so. Unfortunately, the Bonnanos may not have known or believed that."

"If her identity is compromised by the Bonnanos and the Asians learn of it, then the operation she's been working on could also compromised. She'd be wearing a bull's eye."

"Yes."

"Then we need to find her and get her out."

"She is unlikely to cooperate. She has much time and effort put into the case."

"So we don't give her a choice."

"Mickey, you must put your emotions at bay and behave objectively."

"What are you proposing?"

"The Bureau's operation will conclude in the next several days. We have been told to steer clear."

"Like we're going to listen to them."

"In part, we are. The more outsiders who fish around Chinatown now, the greater the danger that her cover will be blown and her life endangered."

"Okay, I can see that. Then what?"

"I am awaiting word on the event that will trigger the Bureau's action. We may attempt to intervene before or during it."

"The event?"

McCall pulled out the sporting articles on Elise Cantrell. "I knew she was into karate, but I had no idea how seriously."

"The Bureau saw this as an window of opportunity to infiltrate the Asian gambling business."

"Elise is prize fighting?"

"Yes."

"I knew that guys were doing this all the time down there, but Elise?"

"Yes."

"The outcomes must be rigged."

"Certainly, according to whatever most benefits the house."

"How do you think this will all go down?"

"If her identity is not compromised, I expect the entire evening will be recorded and once the patrons disburse, the Bureau will sting the operation."

"And if her identity is compromised?"

"The event may be cancelled, or worse still, it could go forward and when it concludes, the Bureau may find itself the target of an ambush."

"Along with Elise."

"Yes."

"The sensible thing would be to call the event off if they felt a raid was imminent."

"True, though the mob may wish to send a strong message to the Bureau."

"Which they could do just as easily by . . ."

"Delivering the body of Ms. Cantrell."

"Then we don't dare wait."

"I think there is third possibility here, one I fear is the most likely."

"Which is what?"

"That the Asians are unaware of Ms. Cantrell's identity and the Bonnanos will use their knowledge of Ms. Cantrell's identity as leverage to extract a deal with them by exposing her at the most vulnerable time. That would allow the operators to clear out just before the Bureau commences its raid."

"Leaving them on the run, but alive, and beholden to the Mafia. Opportunistic and ingenious."

McCall snapped his head in sudden realization and muttered softly. "Yes, Barbara Bonnano certainly knows when opportunity knocks."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, Mickey. Just thinking aloud. Look, I have some things to finalize still. Go and notify the troops to be available on standby the next few nights. Assemble what weapons and tools we might need. I'll let you know when I receive word on the time and location so we can finalize preparations."

Mickey left, only slightly less confused than before. McCall felt the same way. "Mrs. Barbara Bonnano, formerly Scarletti, there is more to you than meets the eye," he said aloud. Frank Woodham would be of no further help there, however. He died during the night. McCall resorted to another call to Walter.

"I do not wish to rehash our earlier conversation. I received your message loud and clear. I will behave on the condition you tell me what you know about Barbara Bonnano, formerly Scarletti, and her stepson Joey."

"You promise?"

"I give you my word that I shall do nothing inappropriate if you tell me what you know." McCall left himself wiggle room with that sentence, and he knew that Walter knew he did that.

"She was widowed after her son and daughter had a shoot out of some kind flowing from the business."

"Skip the party line. I know all about that end. I want to know what happened at the Scarletti house the night John Scarletti died -- that's the end that's fuzzy."

"The kids were out killing each other. Close in time, the father got a bullet in the back of his head. That's it. The widow grieved dramatically at the husband and son's well-attended funeral. By then, she already had her shoulder leaning on Joseph Bonnano, Sr. for comfort. She showed up alone at the daughter's funeral. Well not exactly. Joey Bonnano, Jr., drove her, but he stayed in the car. There was much less drama and crying from the mother at that one. Frankly, people were surprised she even showed."

"What do you know of Barbara Scarletti's relationship with John Scarletti?"

"To all appearances, he treated her like a queen, so long as she kept her nose out of his business. He let her come and go as she pleased provided she played the role of dutiful mob wife when called upon."

"And did she?"

"To the best of our knowledge, yes. Her father had been a lieutenant in Scarletti's father's operation. She knew the game."

"Was she happy with this role?"

"No. Despite appearances -- and she does still look the role of Mafia wife to the tee -- she's very bright and competent. She was self-educated because her father and Scarletti wouldn't hear of college for her. She was also very frustrated at not being able to do anything useful within the family business."

"Since she married Bonnano, has that changed?"

"Greatly so, we believe. Joey, Jr. spends a great deal of time with her. We think he vets things by her. The husband gives her a lot of latitude. He goes back a long time knowing her. Some people think they were involved before Scarletti died, but I doubt it. Scarletti was old school, completely unforgiving, the "you fuck me, I fuck you twice over" kind. In my opinion, Joseph Bonnano wouldn't have risked it. They waited a very proper two years after Scarletti's death to marry, although she was around him from the get go."

"She's very attached to Joey the younger, you say?"

"Yes. Joey, he has the charm of his father, and no trace of the brutality of the Scarletti men. He's definitely in line to follow his father."

"You think she would be protective towards him, like a mother?"

"I can only guess that the answer is 'yes'."

"One more question, if you please. Do the files cast any doubt on the proposition that Lisa Scarletti was the one who killed her father?"

"If you want the truth of it, Robert, there were no forensics. We were perfectly content for his killer to remain a mystery to see the effect it had on the organization. Otherwise, we'd have revealed publicly that it was the daughter. As to the evidence, we had the word of Frank Woodham that she killed her father. Woodham based it on the admission of Lisa Scarletti before she killed herself."

"Her death was never reported as a suicide, however."

"Not to the public, no. The papers simply assumed that everyone in the house died in the shoot out. The Bureau didn't comment. Woodham thought we had to leave how she died open, in case someone might have come forward who spotted her on the way to or back from killing her father. No one ever did; so it remained the assumption that she died in the initial shoot out."

"Lucky for you, that was. Did the Bureau really expect anyone would believe that Lisa Scarletti left a house full of dead people, trotted off to kill her father without being seen, and then returned home to kill herself? It's bloody ridiculous!"

"According to Frank Woodham, it was the utter gospel, except that he persuaded her not to kill herself. That was faked."

  "You don't really believe that is how it played out?"

"Why not? Revenge on the father for sending the brother to kill her and her husband, combined with the shooting of her mentor Frank Woodham, make a great motive for killing her father."

"She was in no condition to have done that alone, Walter. It is inconceivable."

"Revenge is a powerful tonic, Robert, and those are the only facts I know. I think you're spinning your wheels."

McCall inhaled deeply as Walter hung up on him. After his conversation, he believed with certainty that one of two things happened. Barbara Bonnano either helped Lisa Scarletti kill her husband or Barbara Scarletti, in fact, killed him. According to Frank Woodham -- and apparently omitted from the official files by him as well -- Lisa Scarletti had been beaten by her brother and then raped by him. McCall could not conceive how, immediately after that, she could have entered her father's house unassisted and killed him at point blank range.

Thus, if McCall was correct, Barbara Bonnano's recent 'surprise' at seeing Lisa was not because she believed Lisa dead in the shoot-out as the papers reported. It was because she believed that Lisa committed suicide. She may have even suggested it to Lisa as the only option for her. Lisa had betrayed the father and brother. She had killed the brother and two high-level goons. With that, a death sentence attached. Lisa knew it as did the mother. Why not take advantage of that and dispose of the man you despise while letting the blame fall elsewhere, or help the daughter do it and achieve the same end?

McCall re-reviewed the clippings and files from the Bonnano shootings. In only one newspaper, did he catch a line that made sense to him, that could help place Lisa at the scene (if she ever was there). "A neighbor reported that Mrs. Bonnano found her husband dead in his office shortly after she returned from an errand. The witness recalled Mrs. Bonnano waving as she pulled into the garage and then hearing the distress that followed minutes later when a hysterical Mrs. Bonnano sought comfort from another neighbor." The police reports said not a word about Mrs. Bonnano's whereabouts before. Lisa could have been in touch with her and told her of the events that transpired. Mrs. Bonnano and she then may have hatched the plan that followed, to kill John Scarletti.

The question that remained, however, was why, if Barbara Scarletti had helped her daughter back then, why the threats now? McCall answered his own question easily. Years later, could Mrs. Bonnano afford to have someone who knew the truth be nearby? Did she have reason to fear that Lisa would take on her new husband or threaten her stepson? McCall was out of options. Reluctantly, he called Walter again.

"Walter, I apologize. There is one more thing I need. What can you tell me about Mrs. Bonnano's schedule?"

"Oh, for crying out loud. This is the last of it, understood?"

"Understood."

"Today's Thursday, right? Hair done at 11:00 at Suprema Salon. Lunch with girlfriends always follows at Dominic's, 12:30, round table in the back corner. Home or shopping after that, unclear. Will that do?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"This the end of the matter."

"If it isn't, then trust me, you will want to hear back from me."


	9. Chapter 9

** 9. Ladies in Charge **

McCall made a noon reservation for one at Dominic's. He arrived dressed his impeccable best, took a seat and ordered lunch. He had finished his salad when four women, all freshly coiffed and well dressed, entered the restaurant. The maitre' d fawned over Mrs. Bonnano and her friends, welcoming them by name as they entered.

McCall smiled politely, even flirtily, in the direction of Mrs. Bonnano and her friends. They smiled back; one giggled. When they sat down, McCall sent them a bottle of wine, despite the maitre' d's discouragement. "Are you sure? Do you know who that is?"

"Pretty ladies, of course. Ones who would never decline a glass of wine from an admirer."

McCall was right. The ladies accepted the wine, gushed at the attention, and smiled his way. McCall continued to glance at Mrs. Bonnano periodically. She noticed. After the fourth or fifth eye contact, which included a wink, Mrs. Bonnano stood, picked up her glass of wine and approached McCall. The girlfriends were positively tittering.

"May I join you for a moment?"

"It would be my greatest pleasure if you did, Madam," McCall said as he stood.

"Thank you for the wine. It was a lovely gesture."

"You're most welcome."

"Not many men would have had the courage to make it."

"May I inquire why, Madam?"

"My name is Barbara Bonnano."

"I am fully aware of that."

She smiled as if caught, but totally unafraid. "What do you want?"

"A few moments of your time, nothing more."

"All right."

"It's about Elise Cantrell."

"I don't know anyone by that name."

"You full well do, Madam," McCall said. Mrs. Bonnano rose to leave. McCall extended his hand to discourage it. "Please stay. I will call her by her proper name, if you prefer. Lisa Scarletti."

"Shush."

"Then I take it you have not made her resurrection common knowledge?"

"No."

"Do you intend to?"

She stared at McCall. "What business is it of yours?"

"I am an intermediary attempting to help defuse tensions, nothing more."

"Tell me more."

"I am here to assure you that Ms. Cantrell's business here has nothing whatsoever to do with your family. She poses no threat to you."

"Then she hasn't left, has she?"

"She has unrelated business to conclude; then she will be gone. I can give you assurances of this."

Barbara Bonnano took a sip of her wine and put the glass down. "She made a promise to me before. She broke her word."

"She did not kill herself as agreed," McCall said.

Mrs. Bonnano's stare confirmed to McCall that that had been the deal she made with her daughter. "Now she has the nerve to come back here. How could I not take that as a threat?"

"This restaurant was simply a favorite of the gentleman she was seeing."

"Mr. Kostmayer. He turned out to be an unfortunate choice of target from what I hear."

"Yes, a little patience on your end might have been warranted."

"I was patient for thirty-seven years. Patience is not rewarding."

"I understand. All I ask is that you call off the dogs. Let her be, as she will let you be."

"I have a great deal at stake now, much more than before."

"I understand. Again, you were never the target. She made a mistake."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I give you my word of honor."

Barbara Bonnano laughed throatily. "I do believe you, Mr. McCall. I agree to call off the dogs, provided she stays far away." Mrs. Bonnano began to rise. McCall put again his hand on hers and she sat back down.

"One last question, Mrs. Bonnano. Does anyone else know about her, anyone whose cooperation may be a problem?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You have told no one?"

"No."

"You have not engaged anyone who might recognize her as you did?"

"No. Had Joey Jr. been here that evening, he might have recognized her. As it stands, he knows only of Elise Cantrell. I will instruct him to drop the matter." Mrs. Bonnano rose to leave.

McCall rose as she did. "I appreciate your willingness to listen, Mrs. Bonnano. If you have any further concerns or need to reach me, here's my card."

McCall picked at the remainder of his now cold lunch while he waited for the waiter to return. He felt vaguely pleased with himself. At the same time, he felt vaguely unsatisfied. He worried how well Barbara Bonnano could control information or what her husband or stepson did. Also, a loose end in the matter niggled at his brain: the snitch who'd ratted Lisa out all those years ago. The waiter arrived, temporarily distracting McCall. "Just the check," he said, as he pondered whether he dare approach Mrs. Bonnano a second time, regretting ground uncovered earlier. 

On his way out, McCall circled towards the ladies' table. "I hope you all enjoy the wine and your lunch. It was a pleasure to speak to you, Madam," he said. "Please do call," McCall said softly. McCall rated the chance of that low based on the look that crossed Barbara Bonnano's eyes, one that said "we're done."

After McCall left, he called Mickey. "I have received assurances from the Bonnano family that no further attempts will be directed at Ms. Cantrell."

"How the hell did you do that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Do you think that it's over then?"

"No. There are several wild cards that worry me still."

"Oh."

"I am making further inquiries to assess the situation. I will keep you updated."

McCall checked his answering machine next. Vincent came through.

"Friday night, at a warehouse across the river, it's a blow-out extravaganza from what I hear. At least two fighting rings with six cards apiece, ladies' fighting, table gambling and, um, well the girls I mentioned. I'll drop off a flyer at your apartment."

Jackpot, McCall thought, except that Vincent didn't mention drugs. McCall knew those were sure to be present in the midst of gambling and the sex trade. With time and place in hand, McCall's task was to plan an entry that would not alarm the Bureau who would be watching from cameras and possibly from inside too. McCall ran through his list of Asian contacts. In just a few calls, he found a volunteer eager to return a favor. Together, they thought through the problem and settled on a plan. McCall called a meeting and briefed the team. After he laid out a schematic of the facility, roles were assigned.

"Ginger, you will be Mr. Wu's date. Knock yourself out. Hide the piece well, because bags will be searched. Jimmy, Vinny and I shall be Australian businessmen on holiday who are guests of Mr. Wu."

Both Mickey and Jimmy cast incredulous glances at McCall.

"Okay, nix that, Vinny. I'll get back to you shortly. Mickey, you are to attempt to come in as a trainer for Ms. Cantrell's gym. I trust that with effort you shall find a way inside by late afternoon. If you can manage to carry in some hardware, all the better. If you fail at that, you will rendezvous with us and enter as part of Mr. Wu's party."

"And me?" Vinny asked.

"You stay on the outside. Keep us posted on the Bureau's movements and watch for any sign of the Bonnanos."

"Once we are inside, McCall?" Jimmy asked.

"Our sole goal is to see that Ms. Cantrell safely leaves the premises. Though I would prefer that to happen before her match, I do not expect it probable."

"If it's her bust, she's not going to leave easily," Mickey said.

"I'm quite certain that the Bureau does not intend to enter until after the customers have departed and the organizers are cleaning up the operation. I further expect the plan is for Ms. Cantrell to leave after her fight and to join her fellow agents for the raid. If all goes smoothly, we shall do nothing to interfere with that plan. I have given my word as to that."

"So what do you think might go wrong?" Jimmy asked.

"The dangers to Ms. Cantrell are several fold. Mrs. Bonnano may have failed to intercede as promised, though I rate those chances low. Alternatively, Joey Bonnano may not honor his stepmother's wishes in this regard. Consequently, study the photos of the Bonnano family and keep alert for their presence on the scene."

"Um, wait a minute," Ginger asked. "Why would the Bonnanos go there instead of just taking care of her elsewhere? I mean, if they want the Chinese to do it, couldn't they just call?"

"Accept as a given that the Bonnanos know Ms. Cantrell is a federal agent. Assume they know or might learn of her efforts in pursuing the Chinese mob. Consider that they may even know that a raid is imminent, down to the intended timing of the raid. How do they derive value from the situation?" McCall asked.

"Show up, extract a lopsided bargain and leave before the trouble starts," Mickey said.

"What would be the most inopportune time for the Bonnanos to expose Ms. Cantrell?" McCall asked.

"When Elise is in the ring," Mickey answered. "Shit."

"Go to the head of the class, or in your case, the highly exposed trainer's corner."

"What you say means there's a Bureau snitch involved, doesn't it?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes; one loyal to the Bonnanos."

"What do you expect would happen if it goes down that way, if she's outed while in the ring?" Ginger asked.

"Ms. Cantrell, in effect, would be a hostage in a pen."

"Not for long. They'd take her out with them to keep the Bureau at bay," Mickey said.

"Correct, although none of this may occur. If it does, we must be prepared to intercede as the situation may dictate," McCall said. "Take home your folders and I shall see you all tomorrow. Mickey, stay behind please."

After escorting the group out, McCall poured two scotches, neat. "Do you feel you shall be able to play this my way, Mickey?"

"If it's working, sure."

"That is not what I asked."

"It's the best answer I can give."

"Are you in love with this woman, Mickey?"

Mickey shrugged again.

"Until you are honest with yourself, how am I to trust you?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "I care a great deal for her, in love, well, those just aren't words we ever got around to."

"If you get another chance to exchange such words, would you?"

"I . . .."

"For Chris-sakes, Mickey, you are forty years old. I should think you could say the words without blushing."

"Yes, I would."

"Even though there is much about her you do not know?"

"Unless you tell me she's a traitor, I doubt much of it would make a difference, any more than my past would to her."

"No, all I mean is that her past may greatly complicate her future, if she is to have one."

"I get that she has enemies out there. The Bonnanos are bad ones to have."

"Remaining in the city will not be an option for her."

"The Bonnanos, I get it."

"Now, back to my original point."

"Lost it," Mickey said.

"Will you do as I say?"

"Which is what?"

"Apart from attempting to pass on the assurance from Mrs. Bonnano, you will separate yourself from Ms. Cantrell as much as possible during the proceedings. I need you alert and focused."

"I won't do anything stupid."

"The last time you let emotion cloud your work, you got shot."

"Never gonna live that one down, am I?"

"I hope you shall live to remember it when you are 100."

"That's nicer than wishing the fleas of 1000 camels infest your armpits, I guess."

"I want you to study the faces from the Bonnano files very well, Mickey. Consider them your fleas. Knowing these faces may save both your lives." He passed a bigger folder to Mickey than he had given the others. Mickey shuffled through the pictures quickly, too quickly.

"Okay, done."

"I said study, Mickey,"

"A bunch of this stuff's from back in the seventies, McCall. What's the point of studying pictures that old?"

"They say you can lead a horse to water . . ." McCall flashed frustration. "I am going out for a short walk. I shall expect better of you when I return."

McCall's walk lasted ten minutes. The rest of the time he spent in his Jag making telephone calls, working on details, and waiting for the call from Barbara Bonnano that wasn't coming. Forty-five minutes later, McCall returned. Mickey sipped from a refilled glass of scotch.

"Are we attempting to kill the few brain cells that remain, Mickey?"

Mickey had a picture of Lisa Scarletti and one of Elise Cantrell in front of him. "Okay, I see the similarity. Does this mean what I think it does?"

"Yes."

"You've known all along?"

"For a while now. What was told to me, was told in confidence."

"There was no dead body of Lisa Scarletti at the scene?"

"Faked."

"Dead husband?"

"Yes, killed by her brother in front of her."

"How did it go down?"

"Lisa was working with the Bureau."

"To bring down her own family."

"Yes, but a snitch ratted her out."

"Which led to a shoot out that she somehow survived?"

"It was more complicated than that. Lisa was kept hostage in Scarletti's home when she was outed. Her father wished to punish her. The first act was to send a message to the Bureau via Lisa's father-in-law, the agent who recruited Lisa. He was shot in the leg by a sniper. After that, the elder Scarletti turned Lisa over to her brother with instructions to teach her and her husband a lesson. Johnny Scarletti and his men took Lisa home, suitably restrained in the trunk of a car, and lay in wait to ambush her husband."

"But Johnny Scarletti and his men ended up dead. How?"

"At some point in the proceedings, Lisa managed to grab a gun and take out the goons. The brother used the husband as a shield, but stabbed him on the way out. Lisa killed the brother then."

"Jesus."

"Afterward, Lisa went to her father's house and killed him."

"She just walked out of a shoot-out unharmed, waltzed into the mob boss's home after she'd already been found a turncoat, and killed him?"

"That is the general story."

"I don't get it. Why didn't she just call it in then? Going back to kill the father was insanely risky."

"The instinct to seek revenge is a powerful one. She had no shortage of motivation."

"How could she even get in?"

"She had assistance: her mother."

"Her mother?"

"Yes. She called her mother. The mother met her, picked her up and returned with Lisa hidden in the car. On the way, I believe that she and Lisa hatched a plan. Together they planned to kill John Scarletti. One or both of them did just that. The mother feigned discovery of the body several minutes later, and then made a ruckus that allowed Lisa to escape unnoticed."

"This is the same woman who had me run down last week and had a bomb placed in her daughter's apartment?"

"Yes, Barbara Scarletti became Barbara Bonnano."

"Why would she have helped her daughter escape then and tried to kill her now?"

"Until last week, the mother truly believed that Lisa was dead."

"If all you say is true, you think she would have been relieved to find out otherwise."

"Given the nature of the reunion, she jumped to conclusions. She believed that Lisa had deceived her and posed a threat to her new life, a life much more to her liking than her old one. Moreover, you must remember, in Mrs. Bonnano's world, not keeping a promise justifies lethal force."

"What promise didn't Lisa keep?"

"Lisa was supposed to kill herself."

"Holy Christ, what kind of mother would ask such a thing?"

"I don't think there was anything cruel in it from her point of view. I expect she knew that Lisa soon would be dead one way or the other. If not by her own hand, there would be retribution by John Scarletti's associates. I expect that before she sent Lisa off, she may even have thanked her."

"You're saying that Barbara Scarletti wanted her husband dead?"

"He was a brutal man. He taught his son to be just as brutal."

"Even so, you would think that the mother would have been upset about Lisa killing the son and not have helped her. According to the official file, his face was cut up beyond recognition."

"There are lines once crossed that may never be forgiven, Mickey, even by a mother. Johnny Scarletti grew up under a brutal code."

"I know it. Something like 'fuck with me, I fuck you twice over.'"

McCall stared out the window. "Yes."

"I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"Yes. Lisa Scarletti did not escape unharmed from her brother that night, far from it."

"What else happened?"

"She was beaten too. Her brother didn't stop there, however. He took the family code quite to heart."

"Jesus, you don't mean that literally? You can't mean that?"

McCall sighed. "I suspect the mother blamed the father, as well she might, for all John Scarletti Jr.'s lessons on treating women came from him. I further suspect that Barbara Scarletti had endured more than her fair share of mistreatment at the father's hands. Motive and opportunity for revenge presented itself; Barbara Scarletti may have welcomed it."

"But with the condition that her daughter kills herself? That's fucking nuts."

"Imagine Lisa's state of mind at the time. Suicide might have been an attractive option."

"But Lisa didn't kill herself."

"She intended to. First, however, she called her father-in-law to tell him what happened. He persuaded her to go to a safe house instead. He pleaded with her."

"Witness protection program?"

"More or less."

"Then rebirth as Elise Cantrell?"

"Yes. She went back to work, her strong sense of justice unabated, her approach wiser."

"Yet she came back to New York. How the hell could the Bureau let her do that?"

"She had skills and talents they wanted here. Just like Control said, the game is changing. Agents with knowledge of Chinese and Arabic are the wave of the future. Ms. Cantrell has that. The Bureau and she probably concluded that if she stayed away from certain places, her chances of staying anonymous in the city were reasonably good. No one thought that would be a problem for her. She had a reputation as a workaholic. If she wasn't at work, she was at the gym or sleeping."

"Then I insist on taking her to Little Italy to eat. Why the hell didn't I just back off when she hesitated?"

"How could you have ever suspected? That was her decision, her risk to take, at least, she thought that way until you were hurt to get to her."

"Why are you finally telling me this now?"

"I did not tell you that which I was under obligation to keep secret. You figured it out. The rest, well, you'll need to know it going forward."

"Elly is Lisa Scarletti, right. I never really knew much about the end of Scarletti's reign; I was overseas a lot then until, well, you remember."

"I'm not saying her past should matter, just that you should know. That way you'll know what else may lurk out there."

"It's not like she knows that about me, McCall, what could jump out of my past. Plenty of it isn't pretty."

McCall saw the overprotective net he tried to draw for Mickey. "No, that's true. Go home and sleep. Let us hope tomorrow goes well."


	10. Chapter 10

**10. Show Time **

In the morning, Mickey went to Elise's gym. He at least knew where that was, although he could not help feeling stupid at all that he didn't know. The gym manager had no idea what fights Mickey was talking about. A hundred bucks got him investigating, however. Mickey waited while he made calls to the gym's two sister locations, one in Chinatown. At the end of his calls, he propositioned Mickey: "Make it two hundred and I'll get you in as her cornerman."

"Fine," Mickey said and peeled off bills. He'd come prepared for that.

"You meet with Coco at this address at 4:00 and ride with him in the van. He's taking a group of the guys from the dojo; a couple are fighting. Coco didn't know anything about Elise, however. Only girl's name he remembers reading about was Suzy the Slayer and somebody the Killer. I can't see Elise going by those names in a million years or see her fighting in the middle of crazy folks like that. She's way too classy."

"What does Coco look like?"

"You'll know when you see him. He looks like his name."

Mickey nodded, despite having little clue what the manager meant about Coco.

Mickey returned home to assemble a trainer's bag. He used a Company issued bag with a fake bottom and concealed side sections. In these he placed several well-padded guns. Next, Mickey called McCall with an update.

"I'm good to go. That flyer, you didn't see Elise's name on it, did you?"

"No."

"Anything on it about Suzy the Slayer or someone the killer?"

"No, there's only a small line about champion ladies' karate."

"There must be multiple flyers floating out there."

"Perhaps. On this one, the men's bouts do list ridiculous names like that, far worse even. The event sounds more like a wrestling match than a karate contest."

"I don't think this is a true karate contest. I think it's something new called Ultimate Fighting."

"That sounds nasty."

"It is. It takes several forms of fighting and combines them in a near free for all."

"Please tell me that the women are not engaging in this so-called sport."

"I hope not."

"The flyer is clearly advertising karate matches. Vincent left me a complete translation."

"What's advertised and what happens may not match up, McCall."

"The fighters may not even know, is that what you are telling me?"

"I'm just speculating that this whole evening may be designed around a lot of blood and guts, not high fallutin' honorable karate contests."

"Repulsive."

"Hey, it'll remind you of Angola, minus the guns and machetes, that is."

"As I said, repulsive."

"Any word about Elise?"

"Sadly, I hold out little hope of locating her before match time. Nor have I heard further from Mrs. Bonnano."

"She's not gonna turn on the snitch, McCall."

"I guess that it is a bit much to expect one to do to save one's daughter's life. I shall see you this evening, Mickey. Please be careful."

"Right."

At 4:00 p.m., Mickey met with Coco, whose dark round face with a shock of bleached white hair resembled an inside out coconut.

"Jojo tells me you are Elise's personal trainer. He say you a good cut man, too."

"That's right," Mickey said. After all, he'd paid Jojo well to say it.

"You better bring lots of butterflies! Gonna be a crazy night. More fun to watch than to work, though. Now that you here, Sam plans to take the night off so you do all his job. He say thank you. Hey Sam, say thank you."

"Tank yu," said Sam, a scrawny sixty year old who retained only a few teeth.

Mickey joined them in the van. As they drove, they spoke mostly in Chinese, leaving Mickey out of their conversation. Nearly an hour later, the van arrived at the back entrance of a warehouse. Bags and bodies were searched, bodies better than bags, but none the way Mickey would have done it.

Mickey and the entourage were escorted into a hallway that branched off in a tee soon after they entered. They took a right. Mickey knew the layout generally from the prior evening's meeting. The building was often used as a wedding hall, with multiple events going on in several rooms simultaneously. Soundproofing panels helped keep the distinct parties separate, although loud music often bled from one hall to another. Each hall had its own bathroom facilities so parties stayed contained. Mickey counted doors as they walked to establish his position and also tried to see what lay in rooms they passed.

Mickey momentarily stopped to peer inside one room that was being set up: a very dim room with floor panels zigzagging through the room. Dark towels were piled high off to the left side of the room. An escort pushed Mickey along, but not before Coco, who also peeked in, whispered to Mickey.

"Pussy room. Gonna get me some if I win big."

The escort warned them, "You keep to your own business." The escort opened the door to a large hall with two fight rings set up. A couple of fighters were loosening up and sparring. "You stay here only," he warned, before he pulled Coco aside. "Why white guy here?"

"Sam not have stamina he used to. We borrow cut man from our Manhattan gym. Problem?"

"No problem."

The escort left. Coco's boys geared up in training helmets and pads to preserve their bodies for later. Coco stole a minute alone with Mickey. "Hey, big boy. I vouch for you. You give me cash now for pussy later."

Mickey reached in his pocket and discreetly pulled out most of his cash. "Enjoy, friend," he said with a fake smile. Mickey, with little to do during warm up, surveyed the room. The door he entered was guarded as were the front doors. Exiting before match time could be a problem. Next, Mickey looked for the Bureau's cameras. It wasn't long until he found one up high. Nothing too obvious, he thought, and quickly turned his attention elsewhere. He went to chat up one of the other trainers to learn more.

"Where are the girls who are fighting?"

"In another room."

"Why?"

"Don't know. I guess maybe a different crowd like that sort of thing. Me, I don't like to see girls hurt and bleed."

Mickey sagged on learning that he would never see Elise in this room. He went to the guard at the door. "My gym, we do training and cut work for one of the girls too. Can I check on her?"

"No."

"Then may I talk to whomever is in charge, because this is my job, and one of them is my responsibility?"

"Later. Boss man come through soon."

As Mickey listened to the guard's Charlie Chan English, he felt as if he'd been dropped into a bad forties movie. He checked his watch: 5:45. It was still early; the first fights didn't begin until seven. Mickey decided it best to wait for the "Boss Man" instead of pestering the guard further. Soon a fighter's strained hamstring claimed Mickey's attention anyway. Fortunately, Mickey had spent enough time on the other end of a trainer's attention so that he could fake it.

At 6:30, men swooped in to set up folding chairs in rows and adjust the lighting. Mickey took a guess at who the "Boss Man" was and approached him. "Girl from my gym is in the other room. I'm her trainer. Can I check on her?"

"If she needs you, we'll send for you. Otherwise, no. The help stays where assigned."

Mickey laid back a few seconds, thinking of a persuasive argument to give the Boss Man. The man beat Mickey to the punch.

"Hey, boy, is it the white girl? She's hot mama even if she over thirty."

Mickey nodded and smiled in agreement.

"She not bleed a lot?"

Mickey hesitated momentarily, uncertain what answer would help most.

"You answer me. She a big bleeder?"

"Around the eyes, sometimes."

"I let you in for her bout. Bad for business if she bleed out early from cuts. Keep it quiet, but I have money on her to go the distance. She like giant white racehorse. I like very much to see that one in bed."

"What time do the ladies fight?"

"Nine or later, during break in action here. Give folks in here time to get drinks, play tables, get head or suck pussy, whatever. Some from here will go over there, men who like tough women."

Mickey nodded politely before he excused himself, his business concluded. He wandered around the room some, observing the posters -- all in Chinese -- that he presumed advertised the evening fights. "Hey, Sam, what do these posters say about the ladies' fights?"

Sam translated for him. This one only say: "Special: Champion Women's Martial Arts Fights. This one more exciting." Mickey guessed it might be from the drawing of a Barbie-like figure doing a kick on the side of the poster. "Suzy 'the Slayer' Wang, Martial Arts Champion of East Coast, vs. Sami 'Kick Ass' Fong, Champion Kick boxer. Elly 'the Killer' Cantrell, West Coast Karate Champion vs. Cindy 'Hit Woman' Lo, East Coast Kung Fu Champion. Single Elimination Championship."

"Who's your money on, Sam?"

"I seen only three of these girls before."

"Which ones?"

I meet Elly when she visit our gym when Manhattan gym have water leak. She not want to miss practice. She spar very well, very disciplined. She ask me about local fights for money. She tell me that she need money bad. I tell her about fights like this, but I never think she kind of girl who really do it. Suzy Wang known well around here. She have accurate stage name. Kick Ass Fong will get her ass kicked. Kickboxing joke next to real martial arts."

"So where do I put my cash?"

"Keep in your pocket or spend in pussy room like me. Fights sure to be rigged."

"If they weren't, who would you bet on?"

"If clean, rules all enforced, if Elly really West Coast Champion, she win. Suzy Wang never play clean though," Sam smiled.

A few minutes later, customers began to wander in. The preliminary fights started on time to a less than full house. By eight, the room had filled up. Mickey spotted McCall's group among the recent arrivals.

After a few rounds, McCall lost interest in the fighting, which indeed had degraded into Ultimate Fighting. McCall moved to the back of the room to take stock of the land and the people. Mickey -- his gym's fighters not in the ring then -- paced behind the left ring. At one point, he caught McCall's eyes. Mickey flashed both his hands, with a thumb curled under, to signal McCall that the ladies' action began at 9:00 and then flicked a hand left to indicate the location of it. McCall nodded in acknowledgment and then exited.

McCall found the room to the left closed and the door blocked by two men. "Not open yet. Come back later after announcement." Stymied, McCall headed to the gambling room. McCall had difficulty navigating through the smaller guests who packed the room to the gills. Moreover, the dim light choked with cigarette smoke made identifying anyone more than ten feet away improbable. McCall saw a smattering of other Caucasians in the room, but no large groups or entourages as he would expect if Bonnano came. A lovely young Asian girl reached out from his side and took his hand in hers. McCall, curious, followed along as she pulled him out of the room down the hall. She pointed inside a dark room, divided by silk panels.

"Come. I make you feel special."

McCall gently backed away. "Sorry, not tonight. Though you are very youthful and lovely," he added politely.

McCall returned to the gambling room from the opposite side door this time, but again could not even approach a table, so deep were the bodies and thick was the smoke. As he surveyed the hall, he spotted a contingent of eight or so Caucasians just entering from the door on the other side. McCall moved forward to get a closer view but met too many obstacles. He exited and went to the door the others had entered, but by that time, they had disappeared entirely in the crowd. McCall resigned himself to return to the fighting room for a while.

The beatings continued inside the fighting room. In ring one, Mickey attended to a bloody and battered fighter slumped over in a corner. The opponent had disappeared, leading McCall to wonder if this sad sack was the victor or loser. In ring two, another fight proceeded. The bell rang, and money changed hands. One more round and that match ended. More money changed hands. The man Mickey knew only as "Boss Man" climbed in the ring. He made an announcement, first in Chinese, then in English.

"Final men's rounds at 10:30. We invite you to drink, play or pleasure yourself now. Ladies' karate will commence in next hall, out the left side, in fifteen minutes. A very special, one of a kind treat for our friends. Please come see and bet! You like very much."

Mickey tried to follow "Boss Man" out the back door. The posted guard stopped him. "Hey, Boss Man, you said I could come see my fighter over there!" Mickey hollered. Boss Man nodded and Mickey was permitted to cross the hall. He and the Boss Man entered the hall through the back door.

McCall's party also headed across the hall, except they entered through the main door. They marked out seats toward the back so they could watch arrivals. McCall sat in his seat, but Ginger and Jimmy left. McCall dispatched them to maneuver their considerably slimmer bodies through the gambling room to look at the group that worried McCall.

As guests wandered into the hall, got drinks and took seats, McCall saw no sign of the female fighters. Pretty Asian girls in red silk dresses wandered around the aisles handing out cards and placing them on empty seats. Mickey, waiting behind the ring with bag in hand, saw McCall read the card. His face showed distaste for what he'd read. Mickey set the bag down by the ring. He wandered over to an empty seat in the first row where he picked up a card. He scanned the few bits of English on it quickly enough to ascertain there would be three fights, each three rounds, three minutes each round. Elise the Killer Cantrell's prelim fight was second. As Mickey turned to go back behind the ring, the guard from behind the ring met him.

"You stay back behind ring or else," he said as he patted a bulge under his jacket.

Mickey said nothing and did as ordered.

The room continued to fill. The buzz felt different from in the other room. "Boss Man" -- who had been working the room since he and Mickey came in -- climbed into the ring. Again he made a speech, first in Chinese, then in broken English. "We have very special treat for you tonight. Ladies' mixed martial arts, single elimination championship. You enjoy betting and watching. Girls as much fun as boys, you see!"

An announcer stepped in the ring as "Boss Man" exited. Mickey caught only the fighters' names as everything else he said was in Chinese only. Suzy the Slayer entered on cue. She looked downright thug-like, unlike Sami Fong, who had a lean, muscular body and an attractive face. Several minutes later, late in round two, Sami "Kick Ass" Fong had her ass kicked. The Boss Man didn't seem pleased that it had happened so fast. Mickey wasn't too happy about the mauling either. He'd seen Suzy use her fingernails and teeth as weapons during the fight. She definitely went for a hair grab at one point. All had been done with the same amount of referee interference in the men's fights: virtually none. He couldn't visualize Elise doing this; nor did he want to see it.

As the ring was cleared and mopped by the referee, the crowd mingled and got drinks refreshed. A few minutes later, the back door opened. The referee announced the fighters entry into the ring. Elise "Killer" Cantrell bore little resemblance to the woman Mickey knew. Her hair was cut short and died flame red. She wore daggers tattooed on her forearms (temporary, Mickey hoped) and dressed in not much, a boxer's tank bra and hipster shorts. Bright lights focussed directly on her as she climbed in the ring kept Elise from seeing Mickey off to the side. On the other side of the ring, Cindy Lo climbed in, followed by her trainer. Mickey moved up to climb in behind Elise, slightly concerned about surprising her.

"You look different," Mickey whispered from behind her.

"And you don't sound like Sam," Elise said coldly, without turning. "I asked you to stay away."

"I had something important to tell you." Mickey massaged her upper body as he whispered. "Mrs. Bonnano agreed to call off the dogs."

"Good. You can leave now."

"McCall is concerned about some wild cards."

"I have back up."

"Not inside, you don't, not for this kind of trouble."

Further conversation ended as the referee came to Elise's corner to call her to meet her opponent. They bowed. The bell rang and the match begin.

Elise seemed distracted at first, for which Mickey took the blame. Soon, however, Cindy Lo got in a punch that garnered Elise's full attention. The two women fought cleanly through the first round. Neither did much harm. Elise moved back to her corner and drank some water as Mickey rubbed her down. Elise was silent between rounds.

"You're mad," Mickey said.

"Don't worry. I'll take it out on her."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

Elise shut down conversation until the bell rang again. In the second round, Elise took a blow to the midsection that made her reel backwards and down on the mat. Mickey rushed to her. She writhed in pain for a few seconds. Mickey came in closer. "It's fake, you turkey." The referee came over. She got up as the ref three counted. She and Cindy Lo continued with Elise appearing as though she might fall over any second. Elise managed to stay out of the way of any major hits until the last second of round two when Cindy Lo scored a hit to Elise's belly that looked to all as if Elise couldn't come back. As the bell rang, Mickey helped her up to the corner seat. Out the side of his eye, Mickey saw cash changing hands throughout the room.

Mickey iced her midriff and hovered over her. "That one fake too?" he whispered.

"Mostly," Elise said.

"Good, cause I've got money on you."

"Liar."

"Not me, not ever."

"You know, don't you?"

"A good bit, yes."

"You should be running in the opposite direction."

"Don't want to."

"You're dumber than you look then. What's the wild card?"

"Your mother only thinks she's in control."

"God, you do know."

"And let me tell you, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Elise had no time for a response, had she one, before the third round began. She dogged it at the beginning, sure to be declared the loser if she kept it up. With thirty seconds to go, after being pushed back on the ropes by a blow to the shoulder, Elise unleashed a combination series of punches and kicks that knocked Cindy Lo back. Elise finished the "Hit Woman" off with a leaping kick to the midriff from which Cindy Lo did not get back up. With five seconds to go, the ref called the fight. Elise had her arm held up in victory before she feigned collapse in the corner stool.

"Nice move. Never shown me that one before."

"Wouldn't use that on you."

"Glad to hear that."

"Any sign of trouble?"

"Not that I know of. McCall and friends are roaming."

The announcer cut off their conversation. "Champion fight in five minutes. Refresh your drinks, place your bets and enjoy a great show."

Mickey saw Ginger and Jimmy enter through the front of the hall. They made a bee line to McCall. McCall looked at Mickey before McCall stood and headed toward the bar.

"Something's up. I'll be right back," Mickey told Elise. Mickey took the ice pail in hand. As he proceeded, one of the Boss Man's underlings shadowed him.

"Where you think you going trainer man?"

"To get more ice for her and a drink for me. You got a problem with that?"

"No problem. I just watch you like a hawk."

Mickey walked straight to the side of the bar. "I need to fill this with ice and I'd like a glass of club soda." The bartender ignored him, so Mickey helped himself to the ice and left without the soda. McCall had moved in nearby.

"I don't think that filly of yours has a chance in hell, mate," McCall said. "The Slayer will mop the floor with her."

Mickey gave McCall a look, maybe a slight head nod.

"No, I don't see any way out for your girl, young man. None at all, short of a fire alarm!" McCall chuckled.

Mickey headed back to the ring. He iced Elise's belly more, though there was really nothing much there. The ice produced the impression of an injury for the audience.

"I think trouble is brewing. We may need to cut and run."

"Exactly how do we do that?"

"Head for the ladies' room. There should be a small bag in there with a change of clothes. Then head for the front door."

Elise nodded. She climbed out the ring only to be met by the goon who'd trailed Mickey before. He cuffed his hand around her arm.

"You, back in the ring."

"I just need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute." Elise said and stepped forward.

"I'll take you to the back," the thug said, refusing to release her arm.

"What's the fuss?" Elise asked.

"That one's for customers only. Workers in back."

Elise looked up at Mickey. He gave her a look that said not to go. "Never mind. I guess I'll have to finish Suzy off fast," Elise joked and climbed back in the ring.

"That didn't go well," she whispered to Mickey.

"No. I don't think the back way is a good option."

"I agree."

"I could tell Mr. ref that you're too hurt to go on."

"I don't think that'll get me a pass out the front door either."

"I know."

"And the boss man won't be very happy with the take if I quit now."

"There is that. Guess you'll be safer in front of the crowd until McCall's diversion."

Moments later, the referee and the announcer both returned to the ring. The announcer gave a Chinese introduction and then a briefer English one. "Ladies and Gentleman, and now for our ladies' championship. Welcome back to the ring Suzy the Slayer Wang as she takes on Elise Killer Cantrell."

Mickey's attention was pulled in two directions at once. From the back of the room, he observed "Boss Man" escorting a group of Caucasians to the front of the aisle. Meanwhile, Suzy the Slayer stepped in the ring, walked a loop with her arms in the air, then settled on a stool in her corner. Her trainer handed her a full water bottle from which she sipped before she dropped it on the mat. Mickey thought it looked intentional. The referee signaled the fighters to step out of the ring so the trainers could clean it up, which they did. Mickey and Suzy's trainer mopped the spill with towels. Mickey glanced up as he mopped. He disliked what he saw.

Boss Man signaled his fighters to come forward. Mickey recognized the face of the well-dressed man next to Boss Man: Joey Bonnano. As Elise approached, Joey inclined his head toward the Boss Man. The Boss Man moved toward Elise, put his hand on her arm and brought her directly in front of Joey Bonnano. Meanwhile, from the rear of the hall, Ginger walked up the aisle to get as close to the Bonnano party as she could.

Though "Boss Man" wore an air of restrained tension, Joey Bonnano appeared perfectly composed, delighted even. Mickey guessed he was gloating over outing Elise Cantrell. Joey Bonnano extended his hand to shake Elise's. As he looked directly at her, his face froze for a second. Even Mickey from his position in the ring understood what it meant: recognition.

Ginger overheard some of the brief conversation that ensued. She didn't know most of what they said, as it was all Italian. "Tu?" "Si." "Como?" she got, but the rest was too quietly uttered or beyond her fifty travelers' words of Italian.

Moments later, Joey leaned in and gave Elise a kiss on the cheek. He whispered something in her ear afterward. Joey then briefly acknowledged the competitor with a kiss to her hand. The referee announced that the ring was ready. "Boss Man" directed the women back into the ring. Joey Bonnano's party headed to the exit. Ginger went to report to McCall.

Elise seemed a little shell shocked as she reentered the ring. Mickey got behind her and massaged her shoulders gently.

"What just happened?" Mickey whispered in her ear.

"Boss Man" exited through the back door as they spoke. Goons with arms entered and blocked that door afterward.

"Get out anyway you can. This op is down the toilet thanks to me."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Unlikely."

"That was the Kiss of Death he gave you, wasn't it?"

"No, well yes, but that's not what he intended."

"What did he say to you?"

"He didn't know it was me until after he'd blown my cover. I explained that I had never come after his family, nor would I have. He told me that his informant said otherwise and it looked like a good business opportunity. He apologized."

"Then he gave you the kiss."

"He wished me good luck afterward."

"Ah, that was generous of him," Mickey grumbled insincerely. Mickey started another sentence as the ref motioned for Elise to come forward. Mickey held her back, feigning working on her arm. "I say we make a break for it."

Elise looked around. She saw the guards in front of the ring, behind the ring and at the front doors that Mickey had already observed. "I like my chances against Suzy better," she said and pulled away.

Elise moved forward to the ref. Suzy the Slayer bounced up and down in her corner, not responding to the ref's calls to center. Something about that girl just wasn't right. Nor were other things. Still more guards with bulging jackets took up positions in front of the exit doors.

McCall had noticed the increasing number of guards too. He got up and walked to the doors to exit. He was refused. "What do you mean, I can't go out? Why the hell not?"

"Please stay and enjoy the fight, sir. A difficulty outside requires that we keep you in here for now."

"I must insist."

"Sit down. I can help you do that if necessary." The bouncer flashed his holstered gun.

McCall headed back to his seat. He spoke to Ginger. "Find a way out of here now." He handed her a number on a piece of paper. "Call this man and tell him that he shall have a blood bath on his hands if he doesn't torpedo this operation." Next he turned to Jimmy, "Jimmy, get in position to pull a fire alarm, preferably before the end of the second round."

Ginger had Mr. Wu escort her to the door. Along the way and once there, she coughed and complained loudly that the smoke made her not be able to breathe and she had to leave. Her cough morphed into a wheeze, then into a veritable asthma attack in process. "If . . . I . . . don't get . . . inhaler . . . die . . ." she gasped. Mr. Wu translated. When they began to draw the attention of the attendees, the guard relented and let Ginger and Mr. Wu out.

Meanwhile, in the ring, round one began. It consisted of mostly exploratory fighting, a jab here, a kick there. Elise moved and parried effectively. She tried only for worthwhile blows. However, Suzy the Slayer seemed extra juiced and bounced away from hits that might have been expected to hurt more. Elise was sure Suzy was hopped up on something. Towards the end of the first round, Elise managed to get in a kick to Suzy's jaw that staggered her. The bell saved Suzy.

Mickey tended to Elise. "I know all bets are off now, but who was supposed to win this one?"

"Boss Man has the hots for me," Elise mocked.

"I know how he feels. You be careful out there. Hopefully we'll get our sign soon."

"Yeah, well, you keep your eyes open for it. I'm busy with Suzy."

Round two began. Suzy the Slayer had recovered and sought vengeance. She took a forbidden shot at Elise's breasts that glanced off to the side, but did damage. Elise opened up a bit in reaction and Suzy moved inside with a punch to the face that grazed Elise. Elise backed up a moment, recovered and went after Suzy with a kick, punch, kick combo. She caught Suzy's side on the last kick. Suzy fell forward to the mat. Elise eased up for a second. As the referee checked on Suzy, Suzy rolled over groaning and then slammed a kick into Elise's gut. Elise reeled back. The ref "warned" Suzy, but Elise knew he didn't mean it. Elise backed up a bit further, bounced forward off the rope and flew at Suzy, taking Suzy to the mat in a whole body press. As they rolled on the mat, Suzy used her nails to carve stripes in Elise's back. Elise grabbed Suzy's ponytail and pulled. They kneed each other, rolled apart, and stood back up. The crowd hooted and hollered at the cat fight. The bell rang, giving both a needed break.

"How ya doing?" Mickey said as he put ointment on Elise's back. 

"I don't think she's feeling what I land."

"Shit, no. Look," Mickey said as he watched Suzy's trainer hold snuff up to her nose, except both he and Elise knew it was coke. "Hang in there. Hopefully, this will end soon." Mickey glanced around the room worried. He spied Jimmy trying to maneuver in near a fire alarm, but goons had backed him off. Jimmy then retreated toward the restroom. Mickey hoped there was a fire alarm near there or that Ginger would come through.

"No matter what happens to me, I want you out of here," Elise said.

Mickey held ice on her chin. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You don't need to suffer for my mistakes."

"That's my choice, don't you think?" Mickey whispered. Mickey looked around again for Jimmy and McCall. McCall hadn't moved from his seat. Jimmy stood in a line outside the bathroom, trying to push his way through bodies, but meeting resistance.

"Final round" was announced. Money switched hands openly. Elise rose. Suzy sprang up. Elise began the round by trying to stay clear of Suzy, whose erratic movements made it a challenge. She kept coming at Elise no matter what Elise threw at her. Suzy's strikes missed wildly for the most part, but a few connected and wore Elise down. Elise shortened her strides and mixed up her combinations to less traditional ones to try to trip up Suzy. Elise began to connect, after which she would quickly feint to evade Suzy's fast return blows. Elise gained control of the fight until Suzy maneuvered her into a corner. Suzy hurled herself at Elise like a t.v. wrestler. Elise ducked, using her shoulder to deflect the blow before she pushed her way out of the corner. Elise then delivered a roundhouse kick to Suzy's midsection. Suzy fell to the mat, writhing. The ref motioned Elise to her corner. The ref bent over Suzy and assisted her up as he ostensibly assessed her ability to continue.

"She's done," Mickey said with a smile.

"Swear to me that you didn't bet on this."

"It was either that or save it for the pussy room," Mickey said with a wince of disgust.

The referee's three count ended. To both Elise and Mickey's surprise, Suzy was good to go again. Elise came back out to the center of the ring. Suzy and Elise circled each other. Elise's sole aim was to stay out of trouble for the last minute. As they continued to circle, the crowd clamored "fight, fight, fight." The sound of a klaxon rose up over the chants. The crowd quieted to hear it. Someone yelled "fire." The crowd's attention left the ring. People rose en masse to head for the doors.

Elise had stopped in her tracks at the call of fire, looking back to Mickey. Mickey had taken the moment to evaluate their escape route. He expected it to be easy in the chaos that followed the alarm. However, while the guards in the front of the hall had relented to allow customers to exit, the guards in the front of the ring and at the back door hadn't budged. Mickey didn't like it. As he turned back toward Elise, he glanced Suzy rushing toward Elise. Something was in Suzy's hand. Mickey yelled out to Elise, "Behind you!"

As Elise turned towards Suzy, Suzy thrust her hand into Elise's torso. Mickey didn't wait to see what Suzy had or did next. He grabbed Suzy's free arm and twisted it back as he stuck a revolver in Suzy's back. "Drop it or I drop you."


	11. Chapter 11

**11. Detour**

Suzy dropped a bloody switchblade on the canvas. Mickey loosened his grip on her and Suzy fled the ring. Few people outside the ring noticed what went on, as most pushed toward the exits. One who did notice was McCall. He remained in his seat. He could not rush to the stage; it was too well covered by armed guards. Mickey saw that too, and quickly slipped the gun back under his shirt, hoping no one had observed it. He bent down to help Elise.

"Ouch," Mickey said as he observed the wound.

Elise nodded. Mickey grabbed a towel and applied pressure to the wound. "You think you can walk?"

"Where? We're boxed in."

As if to remind him, a thug announced. "You two, out here now."

The numbers were bad. Maybe if McCall, Jimmy and he all were firing at close range and there weren't dozens of people likely to get hurt in crossfire, it might work. If only. "You up to this?" Mickey asked Elise.

"Not much choice," she groaned as Mickey helped her up. "Oh, god," Elise moaned as she stepped over the rope to go out. She crashed onto the floor. The thugs just watched. Mickey followed her out, and helped her up.

"Okay fellas, what next?" Mickey asked.

"She comes with us."

"She's hurt. I'll have to help her."

The guard shrugged. "Bring her this way," he said, pointing his gun toward the door.

"Why?"

"Boss Man say so."

"He talk too much," Mickey complained but cooperated.

On the other side of the room, McCall and Jimmy talked. "Just so you know," Jimmy said, "someone else pulled the fire alarm before I did."

"Ah, yes, I should have seen that coming. The show runners, aware of an imminent raid, have elected to cut and run, making necessary their own diversion. They will take Ms. Cantrell as a hostage to keep the Bureau off their backs as they depart. Let us alert Vinny to watch their departure, and then we shall pursue them. I suppose we should alert the Bureau as well, in case their cameras have failed to perceive the nuances of what has transpired."

As McCall exited the Hall through the front door, he hoped that the Bureau had a decent handle on what had happened and were prepared to pursue the operators as they exited. He knew the job would be difficult for Jimmy and he, not yet in their vehicles. Once outside, McCall observed cars and vans loading and pulling out apace, but going nowhere fast as traffic snarled. McCall reassured himself that at least Vinny should be in a good position, possibly Ginger too. As he approached his car, McCall saw Mr. Wu who pointed toward the side of the building. Ginger waved at him to come. Her car was already out on the street. Cars honked at her for holding up traffic. She shot them a bird. McCall and Jimmy ran toward her. She yielded the driver's seat to Jimmy. McCall placed the keys to the Jag in her hand. She took them and left.

Inside the building, behind the ring, Mickey assisted Elise up. "Hey, let me take my bag at least. You don't want her dying yet, I'm guessing."

The talkative guard nodded in agreement. "I'll get it." He pawed through it first, picked it up and then, with his gun aimed at them, followed Mickey and Elise out the door with it.

Sweet, Mickey thought. Maybe he'd like to shoot himself next. Elise faltered on her next step. Mickey picked her up and carried her. "Hang on. It's not that bad," he whispered.

"Who's feeling it, you or me?" Elise groaned.

"You just lie low for now," he winked at her.

"Is this the best plan we have -- get us both taken hostage? Cause I really had this fucked up enough on my own before you got here."

"Shush," Mickey said, aware that their whispering was ill-received by the thugs.

Mickey set Elise in the back of a van and got in behind her. Four thugs joined them in the back. "My bag," Mickey reminded the holder of it who remained outside.

The guard dropped it in the back, closed the panels and thumped, "Go."

"We're on a ride to nowhere," Mickey whistled, "come on along." It hurt Elise to laugh, but she did. "The bag, fellas, please."

"What you need?" one said.

"What's inside, you moron. Just pass me the bag."

"Talk to me like that again and you a dead man." The thug waved his gun at Mickey.

Mickey realized two things: one, it had been a bad idea to run his mouth and two, it would be futile to pull his weapon just then. "May I please have the gauze and the tape?" he asked. The thug passed it to Mickey. Mickey stuffed the gauze on her wound and taped it tightly. Elise took it as well as one could; it was unpleasant stuff.

Mickey pondered how he might give Elise the small gun he had beneath his shirt, but her outfit didn't leave room to hide much. He continued to ponder that as they rode. Mickey trusted that McCall had them followed, or at least tried hard to.

In ten minutes, Mickey knew by sounds and the speed of the vehicle that they were on an expressway. That boded poorly for being intercepted. He worried that once their destination was reached, Elise and he became disposable. Mickey pondered what might constitute the best time and circumstance to fire his way through the four thugs with them and then deal with whoever was in front. He didn't find an answer.

McCall watched and followed the convoy of vans and sedans which headed towards the Jersey Turnpike, uncertain which one contained Mickey and Elise. The convoy split into two sections several exits south of Newark. Two vehicles stayed on the turnpike while the remainder took a state road. Vinny followed the larger caravan; McCall the other. McCall observed several other sedans split behind him, one following him and the rest following the larger convoy. He felt confident they were Bureau cars. McCall knew he would soon have to call Walter about what might happen next. He also knew he'd been told to steer clear. He therefore called his answering machine first. He hoped against hope to hear from someone who might be able to intercede better than either the Bureau or he.

After two irrelevant messages, McCall's breath paused as he heard the third. "Mr. McCall, Robert . . . this is Barbara. I am aware of certain events tonight in contravention of my promise. I very much regret this, as does the gentleman involved. He was misinformed by someone as to certain aspects of the situation. The source of that misinformation, whom I am sure was always a concern to you, shall not be a further problem. If there is anything else I can do to help ameliorate the situation, please call me." She left a number.

McCall understood that in the next several hours or days, a crooked Bureau employee would turn up dead. When McCall called his friend at the Bureau a minute later, he did not mention this likelihood.

"Walter, it's Robert McCall. A leak in your office caused the fiasco that is currently playing out. Elise Cantrell is injured and a hostage, as is a Company man, Mickey Kostmayer."

"I'm sorry, Robert. Clearly my people misread the risk."

"I do not seek apologies. I hope to save lives."

"You have a plan?"

"Have your people back off until you hear back from me."

"I need to know more than that."

"I believe that if I act quickly, I can extricate the hostages safely."

"How?"

"With the assistance of competent help who will not cooperate if your people are present."

"You don't mean . . ."

"That is all I shall tell you. Do I have some time or not, or do you wish your people to screw this up further?"

"All right, but keep me posted."

McCall hung up and called Mrs. Bonnano. "This is Robert McCall. Thank you for your earlier call."

"Is she all right?"

"Far from it. She has been injured and is currently a hostage."

"How can I help?"

"I believe that the help will have to come from your stepson. Should he agree to assist, the Bureau has agreed not to interfere."

"What do you want from him?"

McCall enumerated his plan.

"It shall be done immediately. Keep me informed please."

McCall continued to follow his set of vehicles as he touched base with Vinny. "Watch from a safe distance and hope that our Asian friends are not in a hurry. Should you get the sense otherwise, please advise and we shall adjust accordingly."

McCall drove another half hour. They continued toward an industrial area in the relative quiet of middle New Jersey. McCall fell well back of the convoy and turned off his headlights as the vehicles slowed by a large, fenced area. Someone moved a wheeled gate out of their path and then closed it behind the convoy. The area was completely darkened except for the lights of the vehicles, which illuminated the route to a large two or two-and-a-half story warehouse. Outside of the structure, there appeared to be a large tarmacked area. McCall drove around the perimeter of the area with his head lamps off. As he did so, the warehouse lights turned on and brightened the area. When he observed the hangar doors, he knew a darkened airfield lay outside.

The moment the van's engine cut out, Mickey had to make a judgment call. Situation: he with a small revolver under his shirt, Elise semi-conscious, and four armed thugs accompanying them. True, none of them were particularly ready for an attack just then, but the numbers were bad. He decided to hold off. Yet he still wanted to make some progress.

"I need to change her dressing," he said. No one blocked his access to the bag this time as he was fully covered. Mickey reached in, unzipped a hidden compartment, placed a small automatic weapon in the towel and brought the bundle out. With his back to the guards, he swapped his small revolver for the more effective weapon. As Elise stirred, Mickey decided there would be no better opportunity. He reached underneath her and tucked the smaller weapon in the small of her back. He wrapped tape behind her to conceal it. Elise groaned as she simultaneously acknowledged with a look her awareness of what Mickey had done.

The doors to the van opened from the outside. Two more thugs waited there. Bad, bad numbers even if no one was truly prepared to fire. Mickey was good, but well, reality was reality. You don't get six free shots.

Mickey and Elise were directed into the back of the hangar, into an office. Mickey picked up Elise and carried her. He gently deposited her in a dusty corner as the gentleman holding the gun insisted. Moments later the man Mickey knew only as "Boss Man" entered. He wore a scowl. "You, out."

"I don't think so," Mickey stated.

"You a fed too?"

"No."

"Why the hell I believe you?"

"Because you're smarter than you look?" Mickey quipped.

"Step aside, now." Four goons with guns ensured Mickey's cooperation. "You not such hot mama now," the man said as he leaned over Elise. "Get her up," he instructed to his goons. From the corner to which he'd been banished, Mickey tensed. He knew that soon would have no choice but to go for his weapon and open fire regardless of the odds.

"You cost me big time."

"Not big enough," Elise said softly. Boss Man slapped her across the face.

"I like you, I like your spirit. But now everything changed. You make big trouble for me. You pay."

"Think I have already," Elise groaned.

"No, you no get out alive."

"Tell me something I didn't already know."

"Mafia boss turn you over. Save my skin. At least I leave with big bucks. Fund nice retirement in Hong Kong."

"All the cheap suits and noodles with shrimp you want," Elise said.

"You smart mouth girl. I know how to stop that."

Boss Man put the end of a pistol up to her mouth. Mickey's hand moved towards his gun. The odds were not in his favor if Boss Man fired. Four armed thugs covered Elise. Mickey held back, hoping it was a show. His patience was rewarded.

"You scared. I like that," Boss Man said. "What make a woman act like you? Like big, tough girl." He smiled at her. "You not so tough now." Boss Man withdrew the gun from her mouth and aimed it lower. With a free hand he pulled down one strap of Elise's sports tank, then the other. The top stayed put. Boss Man stuck the muzzle of the gun on the top of the shirt and nudged it down. Elise squirmed, but was firmly held in place by the two goons. Boss man ran his free hand along her left breast. "Shame to waste this." Elise shuddered at Boss Man's touch. "You hurt me very bad. Change my life. Before I go, I hurt you bad."

"Shoot me already, then," Elise said. Mickey saw her body shivering. Mickey suspected infection had set in already or that she bled internally, although she had other reasons to shake.

Boss Man smiled. "I shoot you soon enough. First, I make you pay." He looked to his goons. "Hold her tight. I show her who is boss."

"Leave her the hell alone," Mickey yelled. He drew the renewed attention of the two gunmen who covered him with his outburst.

"He your boyfriend?" Boss Man asked, delighted at the turn of events.

"No," Elise said.

"What you say, pretty boy?"

Mickey said nothing.

"You tell me. You stick your big dick in pretty white racehorse?"

Mickey knew to stay silent, though he seethed inside.

"Now you watch me ride pretty white horse. I ride her to hell and back. Then I kill her. Or maybe I let my friends here ride too."

As Mickey raged inside, his two watchers' guns never moved off him. Mickey remained backed up by the wall, still as he could be. He prayed for a moment of inattention when he might draw his weapon and shoot the two, even as he dreaded what might soon take their attention.

Boss Man tucked his gun into the small of his back. He reached down to Elise's shorts. Elise tried to squirm free. The goons holding her each shifted so as to restrain her by arm and thigh.

"You like it rough, I give it to you." Boss Man reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. He popped it open threateningly, then leaned forward. "You be still now or I cut you." He stuck the edge of the blade underneath her shorts. He sawed at the fiber edge before the knife began to ease through. He stuck his free hand deeper underneath as he pulled, copping a feel.

Mickey had had enough. The goons watching him had become distracted by the horror unfolding before them. Mickey reached for his gun. As he began to pull it out, one of the goons slammed Mickey back into the wall, rattling his already bruised rib cage. Mickey reeled downward, short of breath. The gun fell out from his shirt. The goon kicked it away, then held his own weapon at Mickey's head. The second goon backed up the first.

"Boyfriend is very jealous."

Elise said nothing.

"He sure care a lot about you. Maybe I cut off his dick."

"Leave him alone. He's just my trainer."

"He no trainer. He a fed like you. He your boyfriend too."

"Maybe I just don't like how you treat women," Mickey wheezed. Without instruction, one goon backhanded Mickey across his mouth with the butt of his gun.

"Or trainers," Mickey muttered, his jaw stinging and blood pooling inside his mouth.

"You funny man. Soon you be dead, funny man. Dickless, dead funny man."

Mickey cooled it. He'd shown his hand too soon. Elise stood to pay the price.

"No worries, funny man. First you watch me have my fun. See what you miss before you die. Look boys, pretty white horse has lots of shiny fur. Not like Asian girls." Boss Man stuck his face in Elise's groin.

Elise squirmed violently, but her effort failed to loosen the grip of her holders. She cried out, "oh, god."

"See trainer man, she like it. She yelp for more."

Mickey fought not to say the words in his mind: "No, you bastard, she's got a fucking belly wound and in bucking to get away from you, she's hurting like hell."

"Now I give her what she waiting for!" Boss Man squealed. He opened his fly and pulled out his equipment.

Elise grunted something in Chinese. Boss Man moved in on Elise. He tossed the knife to the side, seized her throat with one hand and viciously slapped her across the face with the other hand. Mickey guessed Elise's words had been insulting. He suspected Elise had commented on the size of Boss Man's equipment; Mickey also had been unimpressed. Boss Man moved down on Elise again.

"Fur glistens," he said, speaking English for no purpose other than to terrorize Elise and Mickey. He slurped loudly at her groin. Elise remained still, outwardly resigned to what was coming, though her body still shivered. Boss Man pulled his face back up, licked his lips. He moved his body up and in preparing to mount her. Mickey couldn't stand it anymore. He lunged forward. Mickey nearly broke free of his handlers in his fury, but he ended up with a punch to his gut instead. He could scarcely breathe after the hit.

Boss Man paused and turned at the distraction. "You not learn lesson yet, trainer boy? Not very smart one, Elise. Must be very good fuck, eh?" He moved back toward Elise. A ringing sound cried out and then repeated nearby. "What now?" Boss Man complained loudly. The sound continued. Boss Man barked something in Chinese. A goon fetched a ringing briefcase and opened it. He answered the phone inside.

"Joey Bonnano," the goon said.

Boss Man stayed in place and took the phone. "I in your debt, Mr. Joey."

The other side of the conversation could not be heard.

"I about to put her down, just like we agree." Boss Man thrust his dick forward at Elise as he spoke. Elise squirmed and bucked to prevent it, screeching in pain as she moved. Boss Man ended up bumped off to her side barely holding on to the phone. He collected himself, continuing to hang on to the phone. He forcefully swung his free elbow into Elise, catching her near the stab wound. Elise looked as though she would have reeled to the floor on the hit, but for being held in place. Her eyes lolled back in her head and she gagged in pain. Boss Man paced in a small circle in front of her, phone still to his ear. He handed the phone back to one of his men and then abruptly tucked his dick back in his underwear and zipped his pants. He took the phone back, then walked in a circle around the room continuing his conversation with Joey Bonnano. Boss Man's voice was pitchy and raised in anger at times, then controlled and obsequious at others. His phone call ended. Boss Man placed the phone back in the briefcase. He stood in front of Elise. "What you do to make Joey Bonnano so mad?"

Elise stared back looking confused.

"Mr. Bonnano offer me very generous help if I let him do you instead. I take him up on it. Let him finish his kiss of death."

Mickey stared questioningly at Elise to see if she understood what might be happening. Elise looked glazed. Mickey saw her wound oozing fresh blood.

"If he wants her alive, you better let me help her. She'll bleed to death before you turn her over."

Boss Man nodded, but only after speaking Chinese to his thugs. Mickey assumed he cautioned them to watch him closely. Boss Man exited the room. Mickey motioned toward his bag. A goon brought it forward and dumped the contents on the floor. He then kicked the bag across the floor.

At the time, Mickey didn't care. The remaining hidden weapons would not help Elise survive. She was feverish. Her breathing had become more labored too. Mickey pulled out fresh gauze, but had little left. He cut the tape binding her abdomen, put a towel over the wound and pressed on the wound to stem the bleeding. "I'm out of bandaging. I'm going to have to sew this closed, okay?"

Elise nodded slightly. She was fading out of consciousness.

"It will sting at first," Mickey warned as he poured antiseptic on the wound. Elise screeched and writhed as it burned.

A goon saw the old tape behind Elise and something else. "Get back," the goon directed Mickey. Mickey raised his hands in front with the threaded needle showing. His expectations for retrieving that gun had been low anyway.

"No problem, bud. You take it and I finish. We keep it all peaceful."

The goon took the weapon and claimed it as his own by pocketing it. Mickey understood that none of them wanted Boss Man to know that he and Elise had managed to bring two weapons on their kidnapping.

As the goon backed off, Mickey stitched Elise up as quickly as he could. "I'm not very good at this," he apologized.

"You're the best," Elise muttered.

Mickey smiled at her. "Nearly done." He covered the wound with the little bit of gauze remaining, then taped it. He bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

"You have any idea what that call was about?" Elise whispered.

"McCall."

"Huh?"

"How sure are you that Joey's kiss wasn't the kiss of death?"

"Very."

"No more talking," a goon demanded and waved his gun. Mickey nodded. He looked around for something to cover Elise up. The best he could do was to place a bloodied towel over her groin. "Take off towel. I like to look at pussy," the same guard ordered.

"Son of a bitch," Mickey muttered and pushed the towel down off her.

"You say one more word and I shoot you in the arm."

Mickey dropped the losing battle to preserve the arm. Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a helicopter startled Mickey. Helicopters always took his mind back to 'Nam and other equally dreadful places. Elise was dozing, but also roused on the sound as did the thugs. "Joey?" Elise wondered aloud.

"If so, play it his way."

"If you get a chance to go, take it."

Mickey just glared at her. She was too sick to argue with, Mickey knew. Because of her labored breathing, he fretted that Suzy's knife hit an organ and Elise bled internally. Mickey cradled Elise's head in his lap as they waited. Several minutes later, the door opened. Joey Bonnano strode in with six associates. Joey talked with the Boss Man and had yet to look Elise and Mickey's way. Mickey felt disappointed not to see Robert, Jimmy or anyone he knew with Joey Bonnano. He considered whether he had misread the situation. He decided no. Both McCall and Jimmy had been seen pretending to be Australians at the festivities earlier, separate from Bonnano's group. McCall would have deemed it a bad risk to take the chance to show their faces now.

Joey Bonnano's discussion with the "Boss Man" appeared to conclude. The Boss Man waved ceremoniously in Elise and Mickey's direction. Mickey watched closely as Joey approached. All of Joey's men, except for two who posted up by the entry door, followed Joey across the room. Mickey's first thought on seeing Joey up close was that he was a fine looking man who dressed impeccably.

Mickey was uncertain what to think, however, when he observed Joey Bonnano's face alight upon Elise lying injured, beaten and in a state of undress with the bloody towel positioned to suggest something happened that hadn't. Mickey thought he saw rage in Joey Bonnano's eyes. When Mickey looked down at Elise's eyes, he saw tears.

Mickey was confused. Elise had masked her fear throughout the process, put up with pain as well as one could hope to. Why did she now cry if she wasn't afraid of Joey? Had she realized she was wrong about him?

Boss Man picked right up on the situation. "She very afraid of you Mr. Bonnano. She no cry for me."

Joey Bonnano turned toward Boss Man; Joey's face revealed nothing to Mickey. "Yes, for good reason. Mr. Chow, would you be so considerate as to remain a few more minutes?"

"You promise to get me on flight to Hong Kong on time?"

"I absolutely guarantee it."

"I not have much time."

"I insist, to cement our friendship, our partnership. I want to share with you how my family deals with traitors."

"It not take long?"

"Not long at all."

Joey signaled the four men who attended him to take up the positions of Mr. Chow's thugs who had been covering Mickey and Elise. Mr. Chow's thugs crossed back to the other side of the room to join Mr. Chow. Two of Joey's men used their weapons to direct Mickey to standing, his hands laced behind his neck. Two others hauled Elise to a stand. Mickey doubted Elise could maintain the position for more than a minute without help.

Joey walked to Elise, coming within inches of her. He kissed her on the cheek. Several tears flowed down Elise's cheeks. Joey stepped behind her. One of Joey's men also stepped behind Mickey.

"Down on your knees," Joey said, "both of you."

"Just like in the movies," Mr. Chow chuckled.

Joey showed no amusement at Mr. Chow's comment, however. Both Mickey and Elise complied, with Elise more dropping to her knees than bending. "Hands behind your back," Joey ordered. Both complied again. "Would you like to beg for your life or pray to god, Ms. Cantrell? Now is your last chance."

Elise said, "no."

Mickey said nothing.

Mickey felt a gun barrel held up to the back of his head. He presumed that Elise experienced the same situation. Joey Bonnano spoke. "This, Mr. Chow, is how the family deals with traitors."

Gun fire exploded in the room.


	12. Chapter 12

** 12. Bloody Endings**

When the shooting stopped, a small sea of blood covered the floor littered with bodies. McCall burst in the room with Jimmy and Vinny following. "What the bloody hell has happened here?"

"Sweet," Mickey said. He looked down at his leg and noticed blood for the first time. "Okay, could have been smoother." McCall seemed puzzled. Mickey noticed. Mickey turned to see Elise. She lay sideways on the floor. Joey Bonnano kneeled down over her. Mickey turned the gun in his hand towards Joey.

"Put that down, Mickey," McCall instructed.

"Get away from her," Mickey demanded of Joey Bonnano.

"Mickey, don't be absurd. Put the gun down," McCall said.

Mickey saw the number of guns pointed at him. He let the gun loll down and wrap on his finger. McCall was right. Moments earlier, as Joey's thug held a gun to Mickey's head, he also had placed a gun in Mickey's free hand. Mickey, along with Joey and his thugs on both sides of the room, had opened fired on Chow's men. They'd surprised them so much that little fire had been returned.

Mickey limped to Elise's side and collapsed on the floor beside her. On the other side of her, Joey Bonnano kneeled. "Give me a jacket," Joey Bonnano demanded and he was handed one. He covered Elise's torso. Joey cradled Elise's head under his arm and stroked her hair. In a soft voice he said something in Italian to her.

Mickey looked at Elise's face. She was unconscious. Mickey saw Joey's hand covered in blood. "Oh Christ, someone get me a compress of some kind. She's been shot."

Jimmy sprang to action, pulling out a handkerchief for Mickey. A bullet had grazed Elise in the temple. Mickey held the cloth to her head, trying to pinpoint where the bleeding originated.

"Would someone please explain to me exactly what happened here? The plan was to take custody of the hostages and let Mr. Chow leave. What went wrong?" McCall asked as he came close to Mickey to check on his friend.

Mickey whispered up to McCall. "When Joey saw what Chow had done to Elise, he changed the plan. He did the right thing."

"Well, gentlemen, instead of sitting here watching her bleed to death, perhaps you might consider using that helicopter outside to expedite medical treatment," McCall said.

"Take these two and McCall's man. McCall will give me a ride back," Joey said.

"You sure, Mr. B?" one henchman asked.

Joey nodded. He kissed Elise on the forehead, spoke a sentence in Italian to her, then got up and left with McCall.

One of Joey's men picked up Elise and carried her out to the helicopter. Jimmy gave Mickey an arm for support and they followed Elise. As the copter set down at the NYC helipad, ambulances awaited.

Mickey tried to accompany Elise, but the paramedics shut him down. On arrival at Bellevue Trauma Center, Elise and Mickey were kept separate. Mickey's wound was stabilized in triage and he waited for x-rays. Elise disappeared out of E.R. quickly. Jimmy bounced between keeping track of the two patients, giving Mickey updates. "She's up in surgery. No one knows more yet. I told the receptionist you were her fiance, so they should talk to you. Hope you don't mind. Seemed the best solution."

"It's okay, as long as she's okay."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Huh?"

"What went down tonight."

Mickey shook his head.

"She's a tough lady. She'll make it," Jimmy reassured.

Mickey's x-rays came back: nothing major. An intern got to remove the slug and sew him up. For his bruises and his aching ribs, the doctor prescribed some painkillers. At 5:00 a.m., Mickey was discharged. He hobbled back to the E.R. desk.

"Elise Cantrell, I need to know how she is."

"And your relationship to her, sir?"

"I'm Mickey Kostmayer, her fiance."

The nurse smiled. "Popular lady. I have her next of kin listed as fiance. Different name, though."

"Huh?"

"Joseph Bonnano, Jr.. And if that's who I think it is, I would back off, friend."

"Where'd you get that info?"

"Mr. Bonnano. I believe he's at the hospital. Maybe it'd be best if you worked this out with him directly. Leave me out of it." She smiled and walked away.

Mickey followed her. "Where can I find him?"

"She's in I.C.U; my guess is he is too."

Mickey headed up to I.C.U.. On arrival, he asked to see Elise. "No visitors are permitted in I.C.U. this early."

"I heard she already had one."

"I am not aware of that, sir."

"Would you mind checking for me? If there is someone there, I need to speak to him."

"I assure you, sir. Visitors are not allowed until 9:00 a.m. and then only family may be admitted, one at a time."

Mickey needed to regroup before he lost his temper. He turned and headed to the elevators. He went to the cafeteria. Sleep deprived, he also hadn't eaten since the afternoon before. He drank four cups of coffee to counteract the first problem and ate a large plate of bacon and eggs for the second problem. The effect was minimal. He fell asleep in the booth, a newspaper dropped in his lap, mid-read. He awoke disoriented in the clatter of a busy cafeteria. "Nice move, Kostmayer," he reprimanded himself. He went to the pay phone. He dialed McCall.

"It's me. You hear anything about Elise yet."

"I rather assumed you would know and tell me."

"The Bonnanos are running interference."

"I know you are resourceful enough to evade that," McCall assured. "Or are you in need of my assistance?"

"No, I'll handle it."

"Very well, then. I have a busy morning. We shall talk later today."

Mickey rubbed his eyes and forehead. His conversation with McCall made minimal sense. Mickey desperately needed to rest. First, however, he had to see Elise. He went back up the elevator to I.C.U.. A new nurse arrived on the shift change. "I'd like to see Elise Cantrell, please."

"Are you family?"

"Yes."

"Related how?"

"I'm her fiance."

"Oh, they warned me about this when I came on. I'm sorry sir, I can't allow you to visit."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because her real fiance is already in with her."

"Okay, I'm her brother then." Mickey looked over the desk at her chart to find Elise's room number.

"Would you like me to call security, sir?"

Mickey nearly said yes, but stopped. He u-turned and headed toward the elevator. He feigned getting on it, then waited around the corner for a moment of distraction. It took ten minutes, not bad in Mickey's wait and see world, until the nurse left her desk for a minute. Mickey quietly slipped by. Once in ICU, he walked as if he belonged there and no one questioned him. Elise sat propped up in the bed. She didn't look too bad considering. Nor did he, Joey Bonnano, that is.

Mickey watched from outside. Joey held her hand, stroked her hair. Elise smiled in his presence. Mickey felt crushed. He had rescued her for a mobster? He didn't understand. He wasn't sure he wanted to either. He turned to leave.

"Mr. Kostmayer, please don't leave. Lisa wouldn't want you to go." Joey Bonnano said as he caught Mickey walking away. He escorted Mickey in the room as if he were in charge of Elise's life. "I want your answer to my proposal soon," Joey said and planted a kiss on Elise's lips. He left directly after.

"How are you?"

"I'll be okay."

"Good."

"And you?" Elise asked.

"Just a flesh wound."

"I'm glad."

"Um, you mind if I ask what's up with you and Joey?"

"He's a sweetheart."

"Um, right. But that's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"After the shooting ended, he was holding you. He spoke Italian to you, something like: 'my first and forever love.' Then this proposal thing a minute ago."

Elise laughed. Then she groaned. "Oh god, it's not fair to make me laugh now."

"Explain then."

"Explain what?"

"Your relationship with Joey."

"Joey and I go way back. When we were six, we decided that we would get married when we grew up, and then did a whole dress up ceremony right afterward. Later on, our fathers decided it was a good idea and betrothed us, right after my confirmation I think. Joey, he was my, um, first experience. So that's where it comes from, my first and forever love."

"So you're in love with Joey Bonnano? He wants you to marry him?"

Elise smiled and laughed again. "I told you not to make me laugh. It hurts like hell."

"I don't see what you think is funny."

"Me and Joey."

"I heard him talk about a proposal. What was it?"

"Just what it sounded like."

"Maybe I should just go."

"No, Mickey, no."

"I thought we had something here."

"We do, Mickey."

"Then what's with Joey?"

"He just wants me to honor the betrothal. He knows I won't."

"Do you love him?"

"That way, no. He was my best friend growing up. We lost touch, but that never changed. Now, he just wants a favor."

"How would marrying him be a favor?"

"It would help him keep up appearances."

"Of what?"

"Joey is gay, Mickey."

"Whaaa?" Mickey did not believe it. "Wasn't he a football star at Princeton?"

"And the relevance of that would be what?"

"Oh."

"There's a lot of pressure on him to appear straight. He thinks we could get married and then do the separate lives thing well. Maybe even have a kid to keep the family going."

"Marry him as Lisa Scarletti?"

"Nuts, isn't it? I told him so."

"Good."

"Go home and sleep, Mickey. Honestly, you look worse than me."

"You promise no more disappearing acts."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"We're good then?"

"We're good."

Mickey kissed Elise goodbye. He limped outside, hailed a cab to home and crumbled into his bed. He woke up late afternoon. After he washed up, he called the hospital to check on Elise.

"One moment please."

"Who's calling?"

"I'm her brother," Mickey lied.

"I'm very sorry, sir. We notified her family earlier."

"What do you mean you're sorry?"

"Ms. Cantrell died several hours ago."

"I saw her this morning. She was fine."

"There was a complication from her injuries. I can put you in touch with her doctors if you would like more detail."

Mickey didn't believe her. "Give me a name."

"Dr. Richardson."

"And a number."

The woman gave a number. Mickey called it. He got an answering machine. He left his name and number. He said it was an emergency. Mickey was at sixes and sevens what to do next. He absolutely refused to believe she was dead. It simply wasn't possible. Not after all that. No way. Something wasn't right. Call McCall.

Mickey called McCall at home. No answer. He left a message. "Call me. It's urgent." He called McCall's cell. He left the same message when McCall didn't answer.

Mickey didn't know what to do next. Hitting a wall was the best idea he had. All it did was make his hand hurt. Joey Bonnano, Mickey thought, if only he knew how to reach him, he bet that Joey could tell him what was up. Mickey called McCall's numbers again with no connection. Then he tried the doctor again. The answering machine picked up again. What kind of doctor doesn't have an answering service for emergencies? He called 411. They found no record of an address for a Dr. Richardson with that phone number. It made no sense. Mickey called the hospital again. He asked for ICU.

"I want to know where I can find Dr. Richardson."

"I'm not familiar with that doctor. Have you tried the Main Desk?"

Mickey hung up, expecting the Main Desk would feed him the same number as before. He called Jimmy. "Check this number for me. See who it belongs to."

Ten minutes later, Jimmy called back. "It's unlisted."

"Is that all?"

"For now. I'll keep at it if you want."

"I want."

"You okay, Mickey?" Jimmy asked.

"No."

"Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"You know where McCall is?."

"No."

Mickey spent the next twenty minutes pacing and refusing to believe she had died. The phone startled him. "What is it, Mickey? What is so urgent?" McCall asked.

'When I called to check on Elly this afternoon, they told me she died."

"Oh, my lord, Mickey. I am so sorry."

"I don't believe it. She was fine when I left her."

"Things sometimes go amiss after surgery especially where internal bleeding is involved. I am so very sorry for you."

"Are you telling me it's true, McCall?

"If the hospital says that she is gone, Mickey, then it is so. How sad that our best efforts could not, in the end, save her."

"McCall, this can't be real. Tell me that."

"I wish I could, Mickey, but I cannot. Do you want me to come over?"

"No," Mickey said and hung up, distraught. What odd turns of phrase McCall had used. How odd it all was. Something wasn't right. Something couldn't be. Or was it simply the denial that begins grieving?

Hours later, after Mickey limped around the neighborhood aimlessly and made more useless calls, a fax came in. It was a preview of an obituary. "Elise Cantrell, age 38. Ms. Cantrell, an F.B.I. Agent, died today as a result of injuries suffered in the line of duty. She has no immediate family. Body to be cremated. Private memorial service to be announced."

A second fax page followed. This one was a press release from the Bureau. "Seven bodies were found at a private airfield hangar in North Jersey this morning. The dead were Asian mobsters, fleeing from imminent arrest for illegal gambling and prostitution. An undercover F.B.I. agent involved in a sting of the operation was critically wounded at the scene and later died. An investigation into the killings is ongoing."

Mickey read and reread. He took a drink of scotch, a double. Something numbing was needed. Shortly after the fax arrived, McCall called. "I shall be by to pick you up shortly."

"What? Why?"

"Control's pseudo-surprise retirement party."

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No, I am serious."

"I don't give a shit about Control or the Company right now."

"Good. You can tell him that. I'll be there in half an hour."

McCall arrived, dapperly dressed. He knocked. Mickey answered. "You don't look ready," McCall said.

Mickey shook his head at McCall, bewildered how his friend could not understand or even empathize.

"Come on. You'll do as you are." McCall tugged Mickey's arm.

Mickey followed McCall out, numb and thoroughly confused. McCall was quiet for several minutes during the drive, until he broke the silence.

"I'm very worried about you, Mickey."

Mickey said nothing.

"Have you ever thought about what you really want from life? Or shall you ignore it until all you have left are regrets instead of choices?"

"Huh?"

"What do you want for your future?"

"I wanted Elly. I blew that."

"It was not your fault Mickey. You did all you could. What you must remember, is that although Ms. Cantrell has died, you remain alive. You still have a great deal of future ahead of you. It's time that you focussed on that future."

"McCall, what's your point?"

"Carpe diem, Mickey, carpe diem."

"Are you telling me I should quit the Company?"

"If you don't, can you have the other things you want?"

"No, but since I've got nothing out there now, wouldn't it be stupid to quit now?"

"Think of the opportunities missed, Mickey. Change that. Start today."

"You just want to piss Control off, your idea of a retirement joke."

"That's right, our friendship, reduced to a nasty parting gift."

"I'm sorry, McCall. I didn't mean it that way."

McCall nodded.

"Look, I don't know if I'm coming or going. I don't think I should be making major decisions now."

"What if things had played out differently, if Ms. Cantrell had lived? Do you know what you would have done?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"No. I'd probably have fucked it up though. I'd probably end up just the same, alone, with the stupid job for comfort."

"You know that I can keep you plenty busy without the job, Mickey, anytime you are ready. That there are many things, good and wonderful things, you have to offer."

"I don't feel like that now."

"In time, Mickey, hopefully in time." They arrived at their destination. Mickey found he couldn't wear the mask. He went off to the kitchen with a drink and sulked as the party happened. Humorous presents and trinkets were presented to Control. Almost everyone had brought something. Control looked at McCall. "Robert, nothing from you? No witty sendoff after all these years."

"I have one for you. Let me get it." McCall went to the kitchen. "Come with me, Mickey."

McCall held Mickey, unsteady on his feet, before Control. "My present," McCall announced.

"Mickey's my present? Don't take it personally, Mickey, but I don't see much use for you in my retirement." Control laughed. Everyone laughed except for Mickey.

"Me neither," he slurred.

"What's the joke, Robert?"

McCall looked at Mickey. "We are the joke. All of us. Wasted lives, missed happiness, for what? Pretending we saved the world from communism, from terrorists. We've merely bided time, time we could have nurtured with loved ones."

"Aren't we getting a little maudlin, Robert?" Control asked.

"Maudlin, yes, very."

Mickey looked up at McCall. He wondered if McCall had been mocking him. Then he looked at Control. "Happy retirement. I quit."

McCall nodded at Mickey.

"Again?" Control said without missing a beat. "Well, if that's the case, here's to my future and to Mickey's. Cheers!"

Mickey sullenly looked down at his glass of scotch. He drained it. Someone poured him more. It disappeared too. He felt lightheaded. He may have even dozed in a chair.

"Come on, Mickey, it's time to go," McCall urged with strange cheer.

Mickey wanted to slug him. Did McCall not understand his pain? How could a friend such as he not get it? McCall extended a hand. Mickey softened. He followed McCall to the Jaguar, sidled in and dozed as McCall drove.

"Wake up, Mickey, time to wake up, smell the roses and all."

"Huh," Mickey groaned with one eye still closed.

"We have arrived at our destination."

"Where are we?"

"Long Island."

"Why the hell are we on the island? You take a wrong turn?"

"We are here to finish some business and start some other. Come."

Mickey lumbered out of the car. McCall went to the trunk. He handed Mickey a black box weighing about six pounds.

"What is this?"

"It is the remains of Elise Cantrell. I thought you would want to have them."

Mickey shook his head. His eyes clouded. "I . . . no . . . I want her. Not this. Not now."

"Elise Cantrell is dead Mickey. She must forever remain that way. You must accept that."

Mickey looked at McCall. He recognized another odd turn of phrase.

"Come on, there's something I want to show you." McCall led Mickey up a stoop of a house. McCall knocked. A woman answered.

"Come in."

"Come, Mickey."

Mickey, looking lost, entered. The woman led them through the living room door, then to the right to a hall and left to a closed door. She opened it.

"Elly?" Mickey said, eyes widened.

"No," McCall said. "Elise Cantrell is dead. She must forever remain so."

"This was a scam to hide her?"

"Mr. Chow's associates would not relent otherwise."

"You lied to me?"

"I merely deceived you."

"Don't blame him, Mickey. I made this mess," Elise said.

"Elly, you're okay?"

"I will be. Except for the dead part. Been there, done that, don't have the T-shirt. They never let you keep the T-shirt."

"You set me up big time, McCall."

"I prefer to think that I helped you see clearly."

"By maneuvering me to quit the Company?"

"Oh, you would have done that anyway."

"Not if Elly hadn't turned up, no."

"Well, you should have."

Mickey shook his head at McCall. He moved forward to embrace Elise.

"We good?" she asked softly.

"We're good." Mickey answered.

"The former Miss Elise Cantrell, nee Lisa Scarletti, is desperately in need of a new name. After she establishes an acceptable one, she will be moving to either Boston or Philadelphia where she will run a gymnasium that will specialize in teaching young women to defend themselves. It will be funded by an anonymous benefactor."

"You?" Mickey asked.

"I am merely an intermediary."

"For whom?"

"If I told you whom, the benefactor would not be anonymous."

"Good thing I'm not with the Bureau anymore, because it sure smells like money laundering to me," Elise said.

Mickey looked at her questioningly. "All in the family," he guessed. McCall didn't let on, though it seemed the only possibility. "Why Boston or Philadelphia?" Mickey asked.

"Because I wish to keep the two of you close at hand, should I require assistance from either, as I fully expect I often shall."

"So you got me to quit to work for you?"

"No. I got you to quit to live for you and, on occasion, to work for me. Are we clear now?"

"Have you bothered to ask Elise how she feels about your manipulation?" Mickey looked her way as he asked.

She shook her head 'no.'

"If anyone named Elise still existed in this room, she would be smart enough to see that she and you are in love and have a chance to live an actual, normal life," McCall said.

"Having been someone formerly named Elise, I have to tell you that I have my doubts about that," she said, "the normal life part, that is."

Mickey smiled.

"Grow up, you two!" McCall shouted before he departed.

Mickey and Elise sat there together. Mickey spoke first. "So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Philadelphia. Great Italian and Chinese food there," Mickey smiled. "That's assuming you want company."

"I think I'd like that very much."

"Good. I have a proposal for a new name too, a last one anyhow," Mickey said with a smile and then said no more.

THE END.


End file.
